


never let you go (maybe we'll be friends, I guess we'll see)

by mustangsgloves



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15064136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustangsgloves/pseuds/mustangsgloves
Summary: the last thing Waverly Earp expected upon getting to college was someone telling her that students liked to toss math textbooks around on the field for fun...well...that and falling for her roommate...--or “the obligatory my roommate is super cute and I’m crushing on them AU” (AKA The Roommate AU)(title from Never Let You Go by Third Eye Blind)





	1. yeah, I'm gonna let it slide

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> I've been itching to write Wayhaught, and a College AU, so I finally did. This is just one (Roommates) iteration of some of the different versions of the AU that I have (The Coffeeshop/Extreme Exhaustion AU, The Classmates to More AU, and The Library AU)....
> 
> I want to write the other ones too but we'll see.
> 
> I'm working on the voice that I write with for Wayhaught, as well as their characterization. I want to write slow burn for them, and I'm going to try to, but it's so hard because I start writing and it's just obvious to me that they are into each other ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This isn't in a specific order yet, and as I write more I'll add them as I can!
> 
> Anyways, I really hope you all like it, and I'm super open to any feedback you may have! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. you decked me in the head while you were playing frisbee golf and apparently you’re my roommate for this year what are the odds but hang on I can’t believe you almost gave me a concussion  
>  
> 
> I wanna wake up where you are  
> I won't say anything at all  
> So why don't you slide  
> Yeah, I'm gonna let it slide
> 
> \- Slide, Goo Goo Dolls  
> 

A frantic yell of “heads up!” is one of the first things Waverly hears upon setting foot on the large field in the middle of campus.

 

She turns, not sure if the warning is aimed at her, but of course that just means that she moves just in time to briefly see a flash of white glinting in the sun, before a piece of plastic hits her square in her left jaw. Hard.

 

In her surprise, and brief moment of unexpected pain, Waverly takes two unplanned steps backwards - and promptly trips over a bag someone has left on the field.

 

She hits the ground hard, her head luckily stopping just before it would’ve smacked into the grass. As she lands, she can’t help but wonder who would even throw a frisbee on a crowded field anyways, and especially towards a walkway?

 

“Fuck,” she groans, taking a moment to commiserate for herself before gently laying her head down and closing her eyes - hoping in vain that if she can’t see anyone, then nobody had witnessed what just happened.

 

Of course, with her luck, someone does, and she hears a pair of feet running towards her.

 

She hears a shout from a distance, before a closer voice responds, “I’ll be back! You all just keep going, I can catch up!”

 

The further voice replies, “ok, Haught, but no cheating! Count _all_ of your throws, even the one that just hit someone!”

 

“Very funny,” yells the voice closer to Waverly, _Hot_ apparently. “Fuck off, Dolls.”

 

There’s a smattering of laughter from the farther group, but Waverly quickly ignores it in favor of the strong hand that suddenly rests on her right shoulder.

 

“Hey,” the voice is softer now, and Waverly opens her eyes to try to see who actually cares that she just got smacked in the face with a frisbee, but struggles to make the person’s features out with the glare from the sun above. “Hi. Holy shit, I am _so, so_ sorry. Are you alright?”

 

Waverly is pretty sure the person above her is an angel, but then she snaps herself out of it. _Oh, cut that shit out,_ she tells herself sharply. _You didn’t even hit the ground that hard, and your face is_ fine.

 

“‘M fine,” Waverly responds, moving to sit up. The hand on her shoulder resists for a brief second, before moving to her back to help Waverly ease herself up. “More embarrassed than anything, honestly.”

 

She looks to the person again, and this time can make out their face...and promptly loses her train of thought. She could _definitely_ buy into this person being called _Hot_.

 

The girl crouching beside her has flaming copper colored hair that glints brightly in the sunlight, but with a much more welcoming shine than the blinding white glare from the flying disc just moments before. There’s a smattering of light freckles across the other girl’s cheeks and nose, and a distinct beauty mark beneath her one of her eyes. She wears a concerned look, but it’s paired with a sheepish, crooked grin that makes Waverly’s stomach flip - which she decides to ignore. Waverly can’t help but think that the tattered Teva sandals, dark grey capri-length jogger pants, red on white ringer tee, and the black and red checkered flannel tied around the girl’s waist all look far too warm for the heat of the late August day, but she lets it go.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” the girl says, one hand still on Waverly’s back, and her other one gently holding Waverly’s opposite elbow. “I should be the embarrassed one! I’ve been playing this course for years now, so I really should’ve been able to not hit you.”

 

She pauses, takes the hand from Waverly’s back to run through her disheveled hair, and then returns it to Waverly’s back. “Or leave my bag on the field where people would be walking.”

 

Waverly huffs out a laugh. “It’s fine. I really should’ve been watching where I was going.”

 

The girl’s grin turns even more lopsided, “well, nobody watches for unidentified flying objects while they’re walking around a college campus, now do they?”

 

“I guess not,” Waverly replies, feeling her own smile growing. “Is that something I should start doing?”

 

“Here?” The other girl replies. “Oh yeah. The frolf course is pretty active, and people are always tossing something or other around on the field. Frisbee, football, baseball, math textbook, apples, you name it.”

 

Waverly raises an eyebrow, deciding for the moment to ignore the idea of airborne math textbooks. “Frolf?”

 

The girl just laughs and shakes her head. “Right, yeah, I should probably explain that. Frolf, it’s a shortened version of ‘frisbee golf’ which is exactly what it sounds like. It’s really popular on campus.”

 

“Frisbee golf,” Waverly repeats. “Huh.”

 

“Yeah, I was skeptical at first too,” the girl says. “But it’s actually a ton of fun. That is, when you’re not getting hit in the face with a frisbee.”

 

“Speaking of,” she continues. “May I?” She gestures as if she wants to examine Waverly’s jaw, and Waverly nods, raising her chin so that the other girl can get a better look.

 

The hand that had been resting on Waverly’s back moves to gently cup her chin, and Waverly doesn’t resist as her chin is moved up more and to the side. The other girl brushes her thumb lightly along where the disc had hit Waverly, and Waverly can’t help the hiss that escapes through her gritted teeth.

 

“Shit,” the girl replies, her hand leaving Waverly’s face immediately. “Sorry.”

 

Waverly just shakes her head, “you’re alright, it’s just a little sore.”

 

“Great, cool,” the girl replies. “That’s rad. I mean, being sore isn’t rad, just…”

 

Waverly just laughs. The other girl settles back from her crouching position to fully sit on the grass beside Waverly.

 

“Luckily it looks like you’ll live, which is great – no lawsuit or criminal charges for me,” the girl continues, shooting Waverly the same lopsided grin from moments before, and Waverly forces herself to breathe as she notices the other girl's  _dimples_. “It just looks a little red, you could probably ice it to help keep any potential swelling down, and take some Advil for the pain. Only if you want, of course.”

 

Waverly gives the girl an impressed look. “You sure seem to know what you’re talking about.”

 

The girl takes her hand off Waverly’s back and rubs the back of her own neck, shrugging. A moment later, the hand on Waverly’s elbow is also gone, the girl seemingly having realized she had still been touching Waverly.

 

“My older brother is a boy-scout, and I was pretty pissed that I couldn’t be one, so I just read all of his pamphlets and books,” the girl says sheepishly. “So, I guess I’ve picked a few things up. But really, all I know is that ice and Advil can solve a lot of problems. Oh, and duct tape.”

 

Waverly laughs, and there’s a brief, but surprisingly comfortable silence between the two of them.

 

“Um, anyways,” the other girl starts, moving to stand up. “I’m _really_ sorry I hit you in the face with my frisbee. And caused you to trip on my bag.”

 

Waverly just shakes her head as she takes the hand the girl offers and lets herself be helped up. “I was the one who wasn’t looking, and who just stepped backwards. It’s not your fault at all.”

 

“I beg to differ,” the girl says, dropping Waverly’s hand before continuing quickly as she notices Waverly open her mouth, obviously about to argue. “But I guess I’ll let it slide.”

 

“Smart choice,” Waverly replies with a smile, pausing before she continues. “Wow, I just realized I don’t even know your name.”

 

The other girl jokingly covers a hand over her face and fakes a cringe before offering the hand to Waverly. “Nicole Haught.”

 

 _Ah_ , Waverly thinks. _Haught_ , not _Hot_. She takes Nicole’s hand and shakes it.

 

“Waverly Earp.”

 

Nicole just grins. “Really good to meet you, Waverly. Though I am sorry it had to be because I nearly gave you a concussion.”

 

“I’m sure there are better ways to get to know someone,” Waverly teases. “But I can’t think of any right now.”

 

Nicole’s grin only grows wider. “Me neither.” She hasn’t let go of Waverly’s hand yet, but Waverly finds that she doesn’t particularly care.

 

Suddenly there’s a shout from across the field and Nicole looks towards the source. Waverly follows and sees a group of people waving their arms towards the pair.

 

“Are those your fellow frolfers?” Waverly asks, trying to sound serious as the foreign word rolls of her tongue. Instead, she winces as comes off as a little bit sarcastic.

 

Nicole just laughs and sends the group a middle finger before stepping back from Waverly, bending down to grab her disc.

 

“They’re just going to get more annoying,” she says as she stands up again, and Waverly is struck by just how tall Nicole is.

 

“You should go, catch up with them and all,” Waverly replies, but even as she says it she knows, that for some odd reason, she’d way rather Nicole stay and continue to talk with her.

 

“I should,” Nicole admits. “Even though I’d much rather stay and talk to you.”

 

Waverly feels herself blush and just smiles. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

 

She means it as a statement, but it comes out more as a question, one to which Nicole nods enthusiastically.

 

“Definitely,” she replies. “Maybe we could get coffee or something, and talk over that instead of a sore jaw and a dumb piece of plastic.”

 

Waverly laughs loudly and nods. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around, Nicole.”

 

“See you around, Waverly Earp.”

 

And with that, Nicole Haught turns, shouts back some profanity at her group of friends, glances back at Waverly with a blinding grin, and then winds up and rips the disc well over halfway to its destination. She gives Waverly a quick wave, and then sprints off towards where the frisbee lands.

 

Waverly takes a deep breath, grounding herself in the fresh air and the feel of the grass beneath her feet. She feels her own smile grow as she walks back towards her new dorm. _Nicole Haught_ , she thinks.

 

She quickly climbs the ungodly number of stairs to the top floor of the building, and finally reaches her half-empty room, her roommate’s side still vacant. But as Waverly pushes on the unlocked door, her eye catches on something she hadn’t originally noticed when she’d been lugging her belongings into the small room. It’s the name of her roommate for the next year, positioned innocently next to _Waverly Earp_ on the door.

 

Waverly can feel her heart skip a beat as the letters become decipherable. _Nicole Haught_.

 

 _Oh_ , she thinks. _Shit_.


	2. you say you don't know (you had a bad day)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. “are you ok?” “why do you ask?” “because you’re wearing two different shoes…”
> 
>  
> 
> 'Cause you had a bad day  
> You're taking one down  
> You sing a sad song just to turn it around  
> You say you don't know  
> You tell me don't lie  
> You work at a smile, and you go for a ride  
> You had a bad day
> 
> \- Bad Day, Daniel Powter

Nicole groans as she unlocks the door to her small dorm room, not even bothering to properly open her eyes as she steps inside.

 

Dropping her keys and backpack to the ground unceremoniously, she collapses onto her twin bed face down…and promptly refuses to let her body move, not that it’s really trying or wanting to anyways. She groans loudly into the blankets – Friday had come _far_ too slowly.

 

After a few moments of beautiful silence, comfort, and nothingness, Nicole hears someone clear their throat.

 

“Are you okay?” Waverly asks, voice hesitant and sounding slightly amused.

 

Nicole sighs into the bed before rotating her head slightly so she could look at Waverly Earp – her straight-A, brilliant, funny, sweet, beautiful, athletic, thoughtful, leader-of-multiple-clubs roommate – who sits, perfectly composed and awake, even _productive_ , at her desk across the room.

 

“Yeah,” Nicole manages, trying to make her voice more energetic than she feels is humanly possible in that moment. She knows it’s no use, and it’s clear from the expression on Waverly’s face that Nicole looks just as bad as she feels. So, Nicole tries for humor, her most reliable and trusted defense mechanism. “Why do you ask?”

 

Waverly quirks an eyebrow, silently asking, _really? Are you kidding me?_

 

Nicole tries to send her a smile, but can’t even muster the energy to force her facial muscles to spasm properly. All she manages is a sheepish, half-grin that probably comes off as a little creepy – especially given that Waverly can only see half of her face because of how the rest of it is still buried in her comforter.

 

“Well, besides the obvious,” Waverly replies, gesturing to all of Nicole, whose only response is to stick her tongue out at her roommate…as well as the middle finger that isn’t on the hand that is still stuck under her body. “I ask because you’re wearing two different shoes…”

 

Nicole’s sleep-starved brain strains for a few moments to catch up to what Waverly has just told her. So of course, in those valuable seconds, instead of taking time to properly understand, Nicole replies with something she considers to be witty, but in reality, is actually just stupid.

 

“Yeah, a right shoe and a left shoe.”

 

Waverly’s eyebrows travel even further up towards her hairline, and for a brief, hazy moment, Nicole wonders, first, how that kind of eyebrow-movement is physically possible. Second, if Waverly is legally allowed to look _so_ good while giving Nicole _such_ an incredulous look. And third, what it would feel like to kiss away the small frown that’s forming on her roommate’s forehead.

 

Nicole blinks, catching herself a little off guard by her last thought (or at least, that’s what she tells herself, instead of acknowledging all of the other times this semester that that kind of thought has popped up).

 

“Um… I mean… I…” Nicole tries again. Waverly just sighs, and slowly gets off of her chair.

 

Nicole feels her heart skip a beat as Waverly crosses their small room and comes to stand next to the bed, from which Nicole has yet to make a real effort to move.

 

“You mean…?” Waverly prompts gently, resting a small, warm hand on Nicole’s left shoulder blade.

 

Nicole swallows, trying to fight back at the way that the unspoken concern in Waverly’s voice has struck down some of the wall that has been keeping the stress of the week at bay. Nicole blinks twice, attempting to clear the sudden tears that well up in her vision. She turns her face back down, fully hiding in her comforter once again.

 

Nicole hears Waverly sigh quietly, and feels the way her bed dips as the smaller girl sits down next to her. The hand on her back traces small circles, and immediately Nicole feels herself relax, the tension that had been present in her shoulders beginning to ebb away at the soft touch paired with the smells of lavender, chamomile, and unexplainably fresh sheets that float into her senses.

 

“Nicole,” Waverly tries again.

 

Nicole grunts in response. “‘m fine, Waverly,” she mutters through the covers.

 

“Don’t hate me, but I don’t believe you,” Waverly replies, the hand on Nicole’s back presses a little harder, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it makes Nicole feel more grounded than she has for the entire past week and a half. Waverly continues quietly, “what’s up?”

 

Nicole takes a deep breath. “Just a long week,” she manages. “That’s all. You know…tired.”

 

Nicole knows Waverly doesn’t buy _all_ of it, but she’s grateful when the other girl doesn’t press any further.

 

“Okay,” Waverly says after a moment, and the circles on Nicole’s back change to something loopier, almost like words, but they’re unrecognizable by her tired brain.

 

“Okay,” Nicole breathes out. She fights back an involuntary whine as the tracing stops, and she feels the weight on her bed dissipate as Waverly gets up and shuffles around in the quiet of their room.

 

A few moments later, Nicole feels a tugging at the laces of her mismatched shoes, which had been the first right and left ones she had grabbed from under her bed that morning – one maroon Old Skool Vans and one of her tan Eddie Bauer Chukkas that she’d gotten with some birthday money from last year. Thinking briefly about it now, when she was finally just _slightly_ more awake, the two _definitely_ didn’t work well together.

 

She half-heartedly twitches her feet, the laces tugging from where Waverly is undoing them. “I can do it.”

 

“I know you can,” Waverly replies. “But are you going to?”

 

Nicole raises her head up just enough to send Waverly a heatless glare, and is met with the other girl looking up at her with a teasing smile.

 

“No,” Nicole admits, her breath catching slightly.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Nicole stays silent as Waverly effortlessly eases each shoe off of her feet. “Sorry,” she says quietly.

 

“What for?” Waverly asks, setting the shoes down carefully underneath Nicole’s bed. 

 

“A few things, hitting you with my frisbee that first day, forgetting to turn off my alarm clock for 7am last Saturday morning…” Nicole responds, before she meets Waverly’s eyes and gives her a small grin. “But mostly for how bad my feet smell.” In a small burst of energy that she doesn’t really believe she has, she moves her socked feet into Waverly’s smiling face and snorts as her roommate’s nose wrinkles in mock-disgust.

 

“You’re revolting,” Waverly says, laughing in response as she shoves Nicole’s legs back towards the bed.

 

“You love it,” Nicole replies, her grin growing and stress floating away as she pushes herself up into a sitting position on the edge of her bed.

 

“Sure, Haught, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Waverly teases.

 

Nicole decidedly ignores the way her stomach flips at Waverly’s words and the bright smile on her roommate’s face.

 

There’s a short, soft silence as the two look at each other before Waverly breaks the spell.

 

“Was it Lucado?” She breathes. Nicole is snapped back to reality, her focus drawn from where Waverly’s wide smile had been moments before, to the look of concern that her roommate now wears instead.

 

“Was what what?” Nicole asks.

 

“Sorry,” Waverly says, shaking her head slightly and rolling back onto her toes in a comfortable crouch on the ground. “I know you said it was just a long week, and you’re tired – and we don’t have to talk about it, or anything, if you don’t want to – but I was just wondering if it was Professor Lucado? Who got you in this mood, I mean. All sleep-deprived and all…?”

 

Nicole tries in vain to follow Waverly’s words instead of thinking how cute it is that the other girl keeps trying to clarify what she’s saying.

 

The pause after Waverly has stopped rambling is a beat too long, and Nicole stumbles to try to cover up her obvious distraction – and to try to reassure Waverly that she’d _love_ to talk to her, but that she just can never seem to think of the right things to say.

 

“Yeah,” Nicole says quickly.

 

Waverly pauses. “Yeah what? Yeah you don’t want to talk? Or yeah it was Lucado?”

 

“Oh, um…” Nicole shakes her head, unconsciously mimicking what Waverly had done just moments before. “I mean, there’s a few things…but um, yeah, Lucado really laid into us this week with a lot of extra work and unnecessary harshness during class. That’s all...”

 

Waverly just nods, her eyes openly displaying the sympathy that she’s clearly wanting, but, waiting, to voice.

 

“I must’ve spent three nights past one in the morning in the library this week, working on the three papers she assigned.” Nicole sighs, running her fingers through her disheveled hair.

 

“I know,” Waverly says softly.

 

Nicole’s hand stops mid-way through its motion. “You noticed?”

 

“Of _course_ I noticed,” Waverly responds, and it sounds far too honest. Nicole’s breath catches again, and she hates the way she feels her face get warmer.

 

Waverly seems to realize _just_ how sincere she sounds, and quickly continues. “I mean, you’re my roommate, and the door isn’t exactly silent at 2am.”

 

“Shit, sorry about that,” Nicole replies quickly.

 

Waverly waves her apology off, and gives Nicole a look that silently tells her to keep going.

 

“Anyways,” Nicole manages, suddenly reluctant to meet Waverly’s curious gaze. “This isn’t supposed to be a sob story, 2am isn’t even that bad for me. I’m just a really good procrastinator, and this week had a lot work… It’s my own fault.”

 

“You could’ve asked me for some help,” Waverly offers. “I know we only have a few of the same classes, but I could’ve tried to help you.”

 

“I know, Waves,” Nicole sighs, before feeling her face turn red. _Waves_. The nickname had just slipped out, and Nicole forces herself to continue and look anywhere but Waverly – mainly due to the fear of what expression might currently grace her roommate’s face. “Um, I just didn’t really want to bug anybody else. We’re only a few weeks out from finals and people need to do their own things.”

 

“Nicole,” Waverly sighs, and Nicole bites her lip. “Just _ask_. The worst that can happen is I’ll say no, because I don’t know how to help, or don’t have time to.”

 

“I know,” Nicole manages. “I just…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head, forcing herself to push a little further. “I’m not good at that.”

 

One of Waverly’s hands slides onto Nicole’s knee and squeezes, silently conveying her support and understanding. And in that moment, it takes an alarming amount of power for Nicole to a) not accidently kick her roommate in the face, and b) not start crying.

 

“You don’t have to be,” Waverly counters softly. “We can work on it together.”

 

“Alright, yeah,” Nicole replies in the same volume, voice cracking a little bit, and sounding just a little bit too earnest. “I’d like that. A lot.”

 

Waverly grins and Nicole feels like everything is going to be okay.

 

“But for right now, I think I need a nap.”

 

Waverly playfully shoves Nicole down towards her bed and Nicole lets herself fall, her back hitting the mattress with a quiet _thud_.

 

“Of course you do, you dork,” Waverly laughs. “How much sleep have you even gotten this week?”

 

Nicole twists so that her back rests against the wall, and curls up on her side, facing Waverly as the other girl walks back towards her desk. “Little enough to think that my Vans and Chukkas would look _just_ _great_ together, so yeah…not enough.”

 

Her eyes are already closing as she hears Waverly huff out a quiet laugh and the creak of wood as she sinks into her desk chair. Sleep tugs impatiently at the edges of her consciousness, and Nicole almost doesn’t hear Waverly’s response. _Almost_.

 

“Get some sleep, Nic. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

 

_Nic._


	3. romantic, not discussing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. “I just walked in on you changing and now there’s this weird not necessarily bad tension between us”
> 
> So sentimental  
> Not sentimental no  
> Romantic not discussing it  
> Darling I'm down and lonely  
> When were the fortunate only?  
> I’ve been looking for something else
> 
> \- Lisztomania, Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one could be a two-parter if you all express interest in that!
> 
> I want to take a step back and make a more organized, complete universe for this fic, but we'll see if I get around to it - hopefully I do!
> 
> any and all feedback is super super welcome, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! it got a little out of hand...

 

Waverly has heard of all of the roommate horror stories – waking up to sex happening across the room, one person eating all of other’s Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, voodoo dolls, sleepwalking, non-laundry do-ers, walking in on someone changing or doing something else that wasn’t meant to be walked in on…

 

Sure, she had mentally prepared herself for most all of them, she _was_ a _planner_ , of course. So yes, she had a course of action in mind for what to do if she were to walk into her college dorm room only to find her roommate with a small voodoo-doll version of Waverly herself.

 

But in reality, nothing could’ve actually prepared her for a few of these things happening, not really.

 

Or at least, not when her roommate is Nicole Haught.

 

And not when the thing that is happening is Waverly walking in on her roommate changing.

 

And so of course, despite her meticulous considerations of potential ways to react to a naked roommate, as soon as Waverly opens the door and sees Nicole Haught with her back to the doorway, standing in front of her closet with nothing but a plain black pair of underwear and a black bra on her body…her mind just goes blank.

 

There’s a song playing from Nicole’s phone on her bed that just barely covers up the sound of the door creaking open, which is likely the only reason the other girl has yet to realize that Waverly has come back to the room.

 

Waverly can’t seem to get her body to do much else than just _stand there_ as the lyrics flow quietly into her suddenly-hazy brain.

 

 _Romantic not discussing it, darling I’m down and lonely, when were the fortunate only, I’ve been looking for something else, these days, it comes it comes it comes it comes it comes and goes_ …

 

Waverly swallows sharply, telling herself silently to _stop ogling your roommate_ and _say something instead of standing here like an idiot!_

 

She opens her mouth to say something, _anything_ , really, but is suddenly caught very off guard by the way that the muscles of Nicole’s back flex as the other girl reaches to the top shelf in the closet to grab something.

 

Waverly stands frozen as Nicole tosses the gray t-shirt she’d just grabbed aside, trying hard to ignore the way that the soft-light coming in through the room’s one window attractively accentuates the taller girl’s shoulders in a way Waverly’s mind seems unable to process properly.

 

She continues to watch with steadily growing panic as Nicole starts to pull on the flannel she just grabbed, and realizes seconds too late that she’s about to get noticed as Nicole’s fingers work deftly to fasten a few buttons on her shirt.

 

A moment later, Nicole is glancing briefly towards where Waverly stands before continuing her focus down towards the drawer where she keeps her pants…and then promptly snaps her head back up to meet Waverly’s flustered gaze with comically wide eyes. Nicole’s shirt is somehow still completely unbuttoned, and Waverly is caught off guard by the softly-defined but still present _abs_ that her roommate possesses.

 

Nicole’s mouth opens – to say what, Waverly doesn’t particularly want to know – so she panics and says the first thing that comes to her mind. “I didn’t see anything! Except your back, and your legs, and um, abs. But really nothing, actually! Even though that sounds like a lot!”

 

She thinks she’s covered herself arguably well given the situation, but apparently her mouth isn’t done talking. There’s a beat of silence and Nicole just looking at her, before Waverly finds herself blurting out, “your back is really nice!”

 

She stops abruptly and shuts her mouth closed, biting her lip as she processes her last words. _Your back is really nice?_ Waverly thinks to herself. _What the hell? Could you be any weirder?_

 

“Um…sorry.” Waverly feels a blush creeping quickly up the sides of her neck, warming her cheeks, and even up heating up to the tips of her ears. “I mean…I, um…I just…I……shit.”

 

They’re both quiet for a moment – a moment in which Waverly is _sure_ that she just blew everything: the plan she’d had for when she encountered a naked roommate, her growing friendship with Nicole, having a roommate in the first place, even college itself – before Nicole just breathes out a quiet laugh.

 

“Waverly,” Nicole says just loudly enough to be heard over the song. “You’re fine.”

 

Waverly just sucks in a breath and continues looking at Nicole with wide eyes. Nicole gives her a small smile and reaches over to her bed to pause her phone. The silence that follows the lack of the music is somehow both easier and harder. Waverly doesn’t say anything, and tries her best to keep from staring as Nicole’s lanky form straightens back up.

 

Nicole just stands there, a gentle, amused smile growing as she gazes at Waverly.

 

“Do you want to close the door?” Nicole prompts softly. Waverly blinks, trying to regain her capability of conscious thought, before she nods, and carefully shuts the door behind her.

 

“You good?” Nicole asks.

 

Waverly breathes out an embarrassed laugh. “Am I good, wow. Um, yeah, I’m good, of course I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be good.”

 

Nicole just smiles – her patented Waverly-Earp-ruining lopsided grin – and something in Waverly shifts.

 

“I’m so sorry, Nicole,” she exclaims, feeling the words begin to flow. “I really didn’t mean to walk in on you, and I shouldn’t have been staring, I mean, you’re not some piece of meat! I can’t believe I did that, I mean, we’re just, I was just so…” She trails off and Nicole’s eyebrow quirks.

 

“So what, Waves?” Nicole asks, voice still soft and easy.

 

There’s hundreds of things that Waverly could say to that – some the truth, others not so much: shocked, surprised, alarmed, embarrassed, tired, horrified with herself…but in truth, it was more like she was _so_ _distracted_ , or _so caught-off-guard_ , or really… _so_ _in-awe_.

 

She swallows the whole truth – the scarier, leading-to-the-unknown truth – and settles for just part of it.

 

“Just so caught-off-guard,” Waverly manages. For a split second, it almost, _almost_ , looks as though Nicole is disappointed by her answer, but the moment is gone before Waverly can be sure.

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Waverly,” Nicole repeats, and she starts forward as if she were planning on comforting Waverly with a calming hand, as they’ve become accustomed to with each other – but seems to remember she’s definitely not fully dressed, and stops.

 

Waverly doesn’t miss the way that Nicole’s hand flexes around the post of her bed as the taller girl stops herself from walking farther forward.

 

“I do, I –” Waverly tries.

 

“No,” Nicole interrupts gently with a shake of her head. “You don’t. You’re fine…it’s fine.”

 

There’s silence before Waverly musters up the courage to confront the missing piece to the triad the two had come up with in the beginning of the semester. _You’re_ , _it’s_ , _we’re_ …

 

Just a few weeks back, when Nicole had had a particularly tough week in Lucado’s criminal-justice class, Waverly had helped her get caught up in some missed work in her French class. So, they’d come up with some encouragement and grounding ideas... _you’re fine_ , a self-comfort, _it’s fine_ , a larger scale reassurance, and _we’re fine_ , because they were working together, as a team, as something more than just two roommates. They’re _friends_ , and friends looked out for each other in all ways, always. It was cheesy, and maybe a bit unnecessary, but it was _theirs_.

 

So, Waverly wants to say it, she wants them to be okay.

 

“Okay,” Waverly says slowly. “I’m fine…it’s fine…” She watches as Nicole gives her a small smile as she realizes where Waverly is going with the sentence.

 

“We’re fine,” Nicole breathes out softly. And _oh_ , does Waverly wish she could believe that. But she can feel in the air that something has shifted. The room feels smaller. Still comfortable, yes, but smaller. There’s an unspoken tension there that has finally broken out from its restraints.

 

It’d be naïve of Waverly to say that from that first day, when Nicole had accidently decked her in the face with the frisbee, that she hadn’t been interested in the other girl as something more than a friend.

 

Finding out shortly after, however, that Nicole Haught was her roommate for the coming year, Waverly had quickly put those feelings aside – citing nerves, a lack of sleep, and a basic appreciation for human kindness as the reasons for the light, warm, comfortable, happy, and inexplicably _content_ feeling she’d had while with Nicole. It wasn’t a crush [it _couldn’t_ be a crush], it was just some feelings that resulted from a combination of natural circumstances.

 

That had worked for a while, but _Nicole_ was her roommate, and Nicole was thoughtful, and Nicole was kind, and Nicole was supportive, and hard-working, and witty, and warm, and _there_ , and she had caught Waverly off-guard in a way she’d never quite been caught before.

 

She thinks she realized she was truly crushing on her roommate during one of the instances where Nicole was being sweet, and dorky, and compassionate, and supportive, and witty, and _herself_. But Waverly thinks that the time she’d realized she was crushing _hard_ was the night Nicole had gotten her from a party that had gotten a little too wild.

 

That night, Waverly had been a _little_ too drunk, and a _lot_ too honest, and Nicole had just gently guided her home, pulled off her shoes – just like Waverly had done for her the week before after Nicole had returned from a particularly long day – and stood quietly beside Waverly’s bed.

 

She’d stayed there for a moment, and then moved to retreat to her own bed, but Waverly had reached out, fumbled a little bit, but managed to grab her hand, and said _stay_. And Nicole, thoughtful, caring, Nicole, had simply leaned against the edge of Waverly’s bed, still giving the other girl lots of space, and quietly remained there until Waverly had fallen asleep.

 

The next morning – a Saturday, thankfully – Waverly had awoken with a pounding headache at 8am, and found two Advil, some toast and multiple types of jam (including raspberry, her favorite) that she recognized from the dining hall, her refilled Nalgene sitting on her desk beside her bed, and a piece of lined paper that read in Nicole's scrawling handwriting:

 

_Waves,_

_Hey, hi – hope you’re feeling better! Let me know if you need anything_. _I’m pretty damn sure that this raspberry jam is your favorite, but I might be wrong, so I grabbed blackberry and strawberry too. Better safe than sorry, right? Drink the Nalgene – water is way _ _better than coffee for you right now no matter what you may want (I learned that the hard way, caffeine is such a bitch sometimes, right up there with Karma)._

_Also, take the Advil after eating, I read somewhere that taking it on an empty stomach is really bad for you – and this wasn’t off the internet, it was some article in a medical journal my brother sent me, so we can trust it…I think ;)_

_Sorry that you have so much jam now – but maybe you could put on some music (once the headache I’m sure you have goes away), and laugh about how you’re jamming with some jam :) I’m at the library working on another one of Lucado’s freaking essays, and probably will be all day, but I’ll see you later. Also, sorry about leaving you a short novel here, but seriously, just text me if you need ~~me~~  anything!_

_~~Cheers,~~ _

_Yours_ , _Nicole_

 

And sure, any human with basic capabilities of caring and thoughtfulness could’ve done the same, but for Waverly it had all just clicked. Nicole wasn’t just a roommate, she wasn’t just a friend…she was someone that Waverly couldn’t believe had entered her life, and _stayed_ , and she realized she wanted to keep it that way as long as Nicole did too.

 

And of course, her whole body had felt like it was on fire, and all her nerves were hyper-aware, and her head had felt like it was spinning – and she had half a mind to blame it on the alcohol that must’ve still been in her system from the night before – but she hadn’t.

 

Because she knew this feeling, and this was when she was _scared_. Not a bad scared though, an excited scared. A _my-world-just-turned-upside-down_ kind of scared. Because yeah, she has a great roommate. And yeah, her roommate is her friend. And yeah, her friend is a girl. And _yeah_ , she’s falling hard. And oh _god,_ was that terrifying…but it was  _good_.

 

Because Waverly Earp didn’t do things that were easy, or straightforward, or simple. Waverly Earp had pushed herself in high-school, she had _earned_ the top rank in her class. She had left her small town and gone to college (admittedly, to the same one as her sister, but that took courage in and of itself) and she was never one to back down from a challenge.

 

Waverly Earp wasn’t one to just sit and take things as they came – she would go get things done herself.

 

But right now? Standing in her suddenly too-small, too-warm room...she doesn’t want to go first.

 

So, she doesn’t. She can push herself another time.

 

“We’re fine,” Waverly repeats, and Nicole just blinks – an almost imperceptible move, indicating what, Waverly doesn’t know – before she lets her smile grow impossibly wider.

 

“So,” Nicole says, ignoring the gray t-shirt ok her bed in favor of a ragged old _U2_ _War_  tank top on the ground. She picks it up and flattens it on her torso, pretending to model it for Waverly.

 

“Do you think this would work with the flannel?”

 

Waverly _k_ _nows_ that that Nicole knows that the band tank and the flannel combination won’t fly, at least not today when she has a meeting with some other students and a faculty member regarding funding for a few different clubs on campus in less than half an hour.

 

So Waverly just smiles, rolls her eyes, and sighs loudly for show – crossing the room as Nicole shrugs on a pair of black, well-worn jeans.

 

“You’ll be publicly ridiculed for _years_ ,” Waverly teases. Nicole fakes a look of astonishment.

 

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Nicole says. “You’re right. What ever would I do without you here to keep me from making a fool of myself!”

 

It’s part of the teasing, she knows, Nicole’s best mechanism to maximize her own comfort, and now Waverly’s as well. But Waverly feels a new kind of warmth come to rest in her chest as contentment settles in.

 

“I don’t know, Nic,” she replies, smacking Nicole’s arm lightly. “But I don’t think we’ll have to find out.”

 

“Good,” Nicole replies, and in that moment, Waverly _swears_ that Nicole’s grin lights up the entire room.


	4. you're spinning in my head (like a carousel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Waverly helping Nicole with catching up with her French assignments…[translations in brackets]
> 
> “J’apprendrai ta chanson préférée  
> Pour savoir comment te consoler  
> Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel  
> Qui ne s’arrête jamais, ne t’arrête jamais  
> Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel  
> Être malade me plaît"  
> \- Carrousel, Peter Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was super fun to write, but I apologize to anyone who is fluent in French and can probably tell that I used google translate to check my translating...(also lmfao the last line is so dumb but whatever)
> 
> “I’ll learn your favorite song  
> to know how to console you  
> you’re spinning in my head like a carousel  
> that never stops, don’t you ever stop  
> you’re spinning in my head like a carousel  
> I like being sick”  
> \- Carousel, Peter Peter

The last thing Nicole wants to do is get up from her comfortable, warm, _homework-free_ bed, but apparently her roommate has different ideas.

 

“ _Allez, lève-toi!_ ” Waverly’s voice says, far too loud, far too early, and far too _in-French_ for Nicole to be all that excited about being told to, “c’mon get up!” at 8am on a Saturday morning.

 

Nicole groans loudly and snuggles deeper into her covers, burying her face in her pillow, and hoping in vain that if she expresses an overwhelmingly _negative_ amount of interest in waking up, that Waverly might understand and leave her alone to sleep longer.

 

That, of course, would never happen, but a girl can dream.

 

When Nicole had come home the day before from the week from hell – wearing mismatched shoes, and fighting down a strong urge to cry – Waverly had been nothing but supportive, even offering to help Nicole catch up on some classwork she had neglected in favor of finishing multiple essays for Professor Lucado’s Criminal Justice class.

 

The downside, however, was that the catch-up work is in Nicole’s 150-level French class. Waverly’s help would be more than welcome in any other class, but of course it _has_ to end up being in French…a language in which Waverly is _fluent_ , takes far too seriously, and is eager to speak.

 

So really, Nicole has done this to herself.

 

She groans again, louder this time, to really emphasize how much grief this whole waking up thing was giving her, before she responds to Waverly – hoping that speaking a tiny bit of the language back would prove to her roommate that she did in fact know some French, and therefore didn’t need to get up and do work for the class she must clearly be acing.

 

“ _Pourquoi? Tout ce que je veux, c’est dormir plus…et un croissant et un peu de café aussi_ _.”_

[Why? All I want is to sleep more…and a croissant and some coffee too.]

 

Nicole chances a glance from beneath her pillow to see Waverly’s reaction, and feels simultaneously proud and hesitant at the brief impressed look that paints Waverly’s features.

 

“ _Pour quoi?_ ” Waverly repeats. “Because you asked me for help, dummy.”

[Why?]

 

“First off, I’m not a dummy, you’re a dummy,” she says petulantly, throwing Waverly a heatless glare from safe within her cocoon of blankets. “And second, you offered to help, actually. And third, nobody said anything about waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to do _French_ …”

 

Waverly puts her hands on her hips and Nicole tries to ignore the way her stomach flips, because _how_ can Waverly possibly look _that_ good right now while Nicole is still mostly-asleep and pretty sure she has a semi-large amount of dried drool on her cheek?

 

“First off,” Waverly begins, and Nicole _knows_ by her voice that the she means business. “Why are you literally five years old.”

 

Nicole shrugs, but Waverly ignores the gesture as she steps closer to Nicole’s bed, hands still on her hips. She shakes some of her hair from her face, and Nicole feels her mouth go dry as her eyes involuntarily track down to the other girl’s collarbones that peek out from the _Intersectional Rosie_ tank-top that hangs on her small, but muscular, frame.

 

“Second,” Waverly says as she continues to step towards Nicole, whose eyes immediately snap back upwards from where they had continued drifting to look at Waverly’s toned biceps. “I know I offered to help, and that’s why we’re doing this right now.”

 

Nicole manages to nod as her heart thumps against her ribcage. This has to somehow be one of the best and worst wake-up calls of the semester, because the light from their window is soft and shining on Waverly as if she’s the only thing in the room that matters, which, arguably, she very much is. But Waverly is also the one who is dragging Nicole out of bed well before her preferred exiting time of at least 10am.

 

“Third, it is _not_ the ass-crack of dawn, Nicole, the sun has been up for like, a good four hours.”

 

“Well the sun is fucking dumb.”

 

The immature response escapes Nicole’s mouth before she can stop it, and all she can do is hold her breath as Waverly raises her eyebrows and just _looks_ at her.

 

“Sorry,” Nicole mumbles. Waverly just rolls her eyes, and Nicole thinks she might be fighting down a small smile. Waverly crouches down so that her face is level with Nicole’s, and suddenly Nicole can feel Waverly’s warm breath on her face, and has to promptly bite her lip to keep from saying something dumb again.

 

“And forth… _parce que vous devez faire cela, comprendre? C’est plus important que dormir dès maintenant, et, en plus, je sais que pas seulement que tu dois le faire, mais que tu peux le faire. D’accord?_”

[Because you have to do it, understand? It’s more important than sleeping right now, and besides, I know that not only do you have to do it, but you can do it. Ok?]

 

For a brief, idiotic moment, all Nicole can focus on is the way Waverly’s accent doesn’t sound forced at all, and how the words seem to roll off of her tongue so effortlessly, and how her knowledge of French is amazing, and how she’s just so incredibly smart in general, and…

 

…how Waverly is giving her a look that says she better have a good response ready right now or there will definitely _not_ be any croissants and coffee in Nicole’s immediate – or possibly entire – future.

 

Sighing and regretfully un-cocooning from her covers, Nicole surrenders. “D’accord. Oui, je comprends.”

[Ok. Yes, I understand.]

 

Satisfied, Waverly straightens up, giving Nicole a small nod. “Good. We start in two minutes.”

 

Nicole opens her mouth to complain that two minutes isn’t enough time to properly wake up, but she sees Waverly’s expression and decides against it – for her own safety, really.

 

“Two minutes,” Nicole repeats. “I’ll be here.”

 

Waverly rolls her eyes again, but this time it doesn’t seem so annoyed, and Nicole chances a small smile.

 

She then makes a big show of rolling from her stomach over onto her back, exaggerating how sad she was to be getting out of bed, to which Waverly just shakes her head, before standing up. Stretching languidly, Nicole sighs in contentment as her joints creak, shifting and resettling, helping her body feel slightly more inclined to properly wake up.

 

She thinks she catches Waverly looking at her as she stretches, but really, her vision is still blurry from sleep, so she doesn’t think much of it.

 

Nicole pulls on a random top – her white Smashing Pumpkins _Mellon Collie_ album t-shirt – over the sports bra she’d slept in, and tugs her baggy sweatpants back up higher on her hips from where they had slid down while she’d been asleep.

 

She throws her covers back onto her bed and half-heartedly smooths them down before she runs a hand through her wildly messy bed-head, grabs a pen and some paper, and goes over to where Waverly has sat down at her desk.

 

Nicole is greeted with a small smile and a vague gesture for her to sit down on Waverly’s bed, to which she complies.

 

“So,” Waverly says, tapping a stack of paper on the wooden surface before her. Nicole sees a flash of one the various assignments from this week that she hadn’t completed, and sighs. “Why don’t we just start from the beginning?”

 

“Sounds okay to me,” Nicole says with a shrug.

 

Waverly hands her the top paper and Nicole whines softly. Waverly just shoots her a smile that looks an awful like “you brought this on yourself,” and pats her arm lightly.

 

 _Merde_.

[Shit.]

 

* * *

 

Nicole works her way through the pile, asking Waverly questions along the way. It’s surprising, really, the way that she’s able to actually focus and wrap her mind around the other language on a Saturday morning, but if she’s being honest, Nicole knows it’s mainly because Waverly is now sitting right next to her – having moved from her desk to the bed in order to not have to read the words upside down – and that fact combined the lazy comfort of the morning is oddly pleasant.

 

Waverly simply sits there, sips on her cup of tea, and reads one of her many “for-fun” history books, this time having chosen one on the culture and political climate of the early Roman empire. With the still relative quiet of the campus, seeing as it’s only a little after 9am, the room is still relaxed and peaceful, which helps Nicole to actually focus.

 

Nicole is finally through the entire pile when she comes across an odd piece of paper at the end.

 

It’s not one of her assignments, she can tell that much right away, and she knows she recognizes the slightly-loopy, small scrawl that has marked up what seems to be a printed out lyric sheet.

 

“Waves,  _qu’est-ce que c’est_?” She doesn’t even mean to speak French, but her mind is so focused on it right now that it just happens.

[What is this?]

 

“Hmm?” Waverly hums distractedly in response, enthralled in her book, which, with a quick glance at the pages, Nicole finds out is currently discussing Roman theories of sexuality.

 

Nicole tries again. “What is this?”

 

Waverly finally looks up, focusing on the paper Nicole is holding between them.

 

“Oh that?” Nicole is surprised to see a faint blush find its way on to the other girls’ face. “It’s just something I’ve been um...just, you know, working on for fun.”

 

Nicole frowns slightly and goes to bring the paper towards her to examine it closer, but Waverly snatches it before the words on the page register in Nicole’s brain.

 

Looking to Waverly with a teasing expression, Nicole asks, “what, is it some sort of love letter?”

 

Waverly blushes deeper, and scoffs. “Of course not.”

 

“Then can I see it, please?” Nicole says, adding “only if you want” upon sensing Waverly’s reluctance.

 

“It’s really nothing.” Waverly hands her the paper and Nicole takes a look.

 

It seems to be a bunch of lyrics paired with Waverly’s handwriting, like she originally thought. Nicole takes a second, reading a few of the printed lines and Waverly’s notes, before it clicks.

 

“These are song lyrics,” she says, and Waverly nods in confirmation. “And you translated them from French to English.”

 

Waverly looks slightly embarrassed. “It’s just something dumb I sometimes do when I’m bored,” she explains.

 

Nicole feels a swift surge of affection for her roommate.

 

“It’s not dumb,” Nicole says. “It’s cool. And it explains how you’re so good at French.”

 

Waverly scoffs again, and shakes her head. “It’s silly. But I will admit it helps keep my French from getting too rusty.”

 

“You mean rusty at all,” Nicole grins. Waverly smiles at the subtle compliment and gently takes the paper back.

 

“Anyways.” She finishes her tea with a final swig, and leans past Nicole to set the mug on the edge of the desk. “It’s not all that exciting.”

 

“What song is it?”

 

Waverly gives Nicole a look that suggests that she’s surprised that Nicole is taking interest in the paper, and Nicole’s heart tugs a little painfully. It’s a look that Nicole wishes Waverly would never have on her face – but one that, thankfully, as their time as roommates and _friends_ has gone on, has become less and less frequent. Nicole supposes that it stems from Waverly’s childhood, which they’ve only talked about briefly, seeing as when had Nicole first asked, the look in Waverly’s eyes had been much too sad for her to want to push any further on the subject.

 

Nicole breaks off from that gloomy train of thought when Waverly blinks, and then answers her question.

 

“It’s called _Carrousel_ , by Peter Peter,” Waverly says. “I came across it recently…I really like it.”

 

“How come?” Nicole asks, already grabbing her phone to pull up the song. The two have exchanged a lot of music, something Nicole has been grateful for – both because she gets new music from Waverly, and because she gets to use that form of expression that she’s so familiar with. She has always loved sharing music with people she cares about, so she was all too happy when Waverly had eagerly accepted, and loved, the first song that Nicole had suggested to her back when they first moved in.

 

There’s quiet for a beat too long, and Nicole looks up at Waverly, only to find her already gazing at Nicole with and an indescribably soft look in her eyes. It catches Nicole a little off guard, but then Waverly blinks, as if breaking herself out of a trance, and quickly turns her attention back to her Rome book.

 

Her voice is quiet when she shrugs and elaborates. “His songs remind me of people I care about.”

 

Nicole can tell when Waverly doesn’t want to be pushed, and seems like it might be turning into one of those times, so she simply hums and responds with a quiet “sweet.”

 

Nicole fumbles around in her pockets for her headphones for a minute before realizing that she left them on her desk across the room. She moves to get up and grab them, but is stopped by Waverly’s hand on her forearm.

 

“Wait, I have an idea,” Waverly says. “Why don’t we do some extra fun French practice?”

 

Nicole groans half-heartedly – more for show than anything else – and turns to face Waverly, who wears a small, maybe even sly, smile.

 

“And what exactly does that mean?” Nicole asks.

 

Waverly sets her book aside, and picks up Nicole’s phone, scrolling through Spotify before she finds the right version of the song.

 

“It means,” she says as she pulls up the song. “That I play a French song, and you listen and try to write down as many of the lyrics as possible!”

 

“You know that sounds like torture, right?” Nicole replies.

 

Waverly bumps their shoulders together, “it’ll be fun! We can do a few.”

 

She’s looking at Nicole with that same softness from before, and suddenly Nicole finds that she doesn’t even care that she’ll probably look like an idiot because she definitely does not have that kind of listening-comprehension level yet.

 

Nicole sighs and acquiesces – grabbing her notebook and clicking open her favorite pen. She looks at Waverly with a mock-serious expression and says, “hit me with it.”

 

“Alright,” Waverly laughs. “This one is called _Tergiverse_ , it’s the first song of his I heard. Very nostalgia-inducing, obviously.”

 

Nicole nods, and Waverly presses play.

 

The slow, classically French-acoustic guitar intro begins, and Nicole can already feel herself beginning to like the song.

 

And then the singing starts.

 

It’s not like the guy doesn’t have a good singing voice, he does, it’s just that Nicole really doubts that she gets all of this in one go, let alone on her first listen.

 

She decides that she’ll play it smart, frantically jotting down what she can, but mainly just trying to listen.

 

Nicole can feel Waverly’s eyes on her every once in a while as she glances up from her book to gauge Nicole’s reactions. But by the time the song is over, Nicole has a pretty messy, only slightly-comprehensible bunch of words written on her paper.

 

Waverly silently presses the replay button, and Nicole closes her eyes to listen more closely this time.

 

She gets a little more the second time through, and hands Waverly the paper to look it over.

 

“This isn’t bad at all, Nic,” Waverly says as she compares it to the online version of the lyrics. “Do you wanna do one more?”

 

“I mean, not particularly…” Nicole starts, but breaks off as she sees an unexpectedly honest look of disappointment flicker quickly across Waverly’s features. “But sure, why not.”

 

Waverly nods, obviously trying to downplay her previous emotion.

 

“This one is called _Carrousel_ , mainly focus on the chorus,” Waverly says lightly, queuing up a different song. “It’s pretty fun.”

 

Nicole smirks. “So, that means it reminds you of me, right?”

 

Waverly laughs, but Nicole notices the blush that is once again creeping up her neck, and the way that Waverly’s eyes won’t meet hers as she replies with a smile that seems a little forced. “Obviously.”

 

The song starts. The intro is decidedly more pop-like than _Tergiverse_ and is quicker paced, but only slightly. When the singing starts, Nicole realizes that this one is going to be even harder than the last. She does her best to catch all the intricacies that are being sung, but she can only really understand the chorus.

 

After the song has played twice, Nicole takes a few seconds to jot down the words she got on the second time around, but it turns out she had understood painfully little…except, kind of, the chorus.

 

_J’apprendrai ta chanson préférée_

_Pour savoir comment te consoler_

_Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel_

_Qui ne s’arrête jamais, ______ ? jamais_

_Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel_

_Être ______ plaît ?_

 

Nicole feels oddly nervous when she hands Waverly the paper, and has to try really hard to react as their fingers accidently brush.

 

She watches in silence as Waverly reads over her writing, skimming over until she gets to the chorus.

 

“This is pretty good,” Waverly offers.

 

Nicole gives her an unimpressed look. “Waves, I know that most of those lyrics are wrong, if they’re even there.”

 

“Oh please, you know more than you think. And besides, the chorus parts you have are right.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re just missing ‘ _ne_ _t’arrête_ _’_ and ‘ _malade me_ ’ in the three lines,” Waverly says. “I’m really impressed.”

 

“Always the tone of surprise,” Nicole teases.

 

“Oh shut up,” Waverly retorts without heat.

 

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, Nicole allowing herself to get a little distracted by the messy bun Waverly has put her hair up in.

 

“So…” Nicole draws out, “what does it mean?”

 

Waverly rolls her eyes, something she’s seems to be doing a lot this morning, before she responds. “ _Tu parles français, n’est pas_?”

[You speak French, don’t you?]

 

Nicole feels herself copying the exasperated gesture as she glances briefly at the ceiling. “ _Ouais_ , _un peu,_ _mais traduire est dur, non_ _?_ ”

[Yeah, a little, but translating is hard, no?]

 

“ _Juste essayer_.”

[Just try.]

 

Nicole looks down at the scribbled lyrics, and feels her stomach flip a little bit as she starts piecing the first line of the chorus together.

 

“ _J’apprendrai ta chanson préférée_ ,” Nicole begins. “I’ll learn your favorite song.”

 

 _Wasn’t_ this  _song one of Waverly’s favorites? Or at least lately?_ Nicole thinks, but quickly shakes the thought from her head. It’s still before noon, so really anything she’s thinking right now can’t be taken with too much seriousness. At least, that’s what she’s telling herself.

 

She continues. “ _Pour savoir comment te consoler_. Um, I think it’s to know how to console you?”

 

Waverly nods encouragingly.

 

“ _Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel_ _, qui_ _ne s’arrête jamais, ne t’arrête jamais_ _…_ ” Nicole pauses, considering the words before saying, with a surprising amount of confidence, “you’re spinning in my head like a carousel, that never stops, don’t you ever stop.”

 

Waverly _doesn’t_ stop her, so she continues.

 

“ _Tu tournes dans ma tête comme une carrousel, être malade me plaît_. You’re spinning in my head like a carousel…”

 

 _Être_ is ‘to be’ – Nicole knows that. But paired with the other bits? No clue.

 

She’s quiet, and after a minute Waverly prompts her. “I like being…”

 

Nicole wracks her brain for the meaning of _malade_ and quickly remembers the now very obvious word.

 

“Sick!”

 

Waverly grins, and Nicole turns to her. They make eye-contact, and it feels all-too charged, but Nicole can’t find it in herself to look away.

 

Her voice is quiet when she finishes the lyrics. “You’re spinning in my head like a carousel, that never stops, don’t you ever stop…”

 

Waverly joins her at the final line, and together they both just barely breath it out. “You’re spinning in my head like a carousel, I like being sick.”

 

Suddenly, the inches between them feel simultaneously too far and too close to Nicole, but her body and her mind don’t know how to react. She’s all too aware of the soft look that is still in Waverly’s gaze, and can feel the heat from Waverly’s legs even through her sweatpants. She’s trying her level best to not glance down at her roommate’s lips and think about pressing her own against them – because _god_ , would that be inappropriate.

 

But _god_ does she want to.

 

The silence finally becomes awkward, and Waverly jumps in quickly to try to amend it.

 

“Yeah,” Waverly says. “Yeah that’s right. Um, nice job.”

 

“Thanks,” Nicole manages. She gestures vaguely, unsure of what exactly to say, so she rambles a bit. “You know, for helping with the assignments, and waking me up, and, of course, the extra fun French practice.”

 

Waverly smiles, a real smile, and Nicole feels a warmth bloom in her chest.

 

“Of course.”

 

Another beat of silence passes before Nicole asks, only partially kidding, “can I go back to sleep now?”

 

Waverly just lightly punches Nicole’s shoulder and laughs. “Sure, sleepyhead. I don’t care. But no more getting behind in French, okay?”

 

“ _Bah, oui_!” Nicole grins, getting up from Waverly’s bed just to cross the room and collapse onto her own.

[Duh, yes!]

 

“ _Vous êtes ridicules, vous le savez bien? Mais aussi, je suppose que je devrais te dire que la chanson ne me rappelle pas de toi parce qu’il s’agit d’un carrousel amusant – c’est dans le refrain, vraiment.”_

[You’re ridiculous, you know that right? But also, I guess I should tell you that the song doesn’t remind me of you because it’s about a fun carousel – it’s in the chorus, really.]

 

Nicole has half a mind to try and decipher what Waverly is rambling on about, but the second she hits her bed, she knows it’s game over. Sleep tugs far too forcefully at her mind and body as soon as she hits the blankets, and she suddenly doesn’t want to listen to or talk in English, let alone French.

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Nicole mumbles from back within her blanket cocoon. “Thanks Waves, I owe you one. I’ll get you coffee or something. Right now though all can focus on is my bed.”

 

Waverly laughs, and it sounds a bit nervous, but Nicole is already half-asleep. “Sure thing, Nicole. I’m always happy to help. We can get that coffee later.”

 

Nicole blinks blearily, surprised at how quickly she’s about to pass out again, and watches for a few moments as Waverly orients herself on her bed, diving back into the Roman culture and political history book.

 

Nicole feels full, in the sense that it was only 10:02am on a Saturday morning, and already she’d been reminded of all the good things in her life. Waverly just seems to have that uncanny ability to brighten her day no matter what.

 

Drifting off, Nicole promises to herself that she’ll try a little harder in French class, if not to get an A, but to be able to talk more to Waverly, and, in all honesty, maybe impress the other girl. “ _Ce n’est pas une problème_ ,” Nicole mumbles into her covers. “ _Parce que je veux être ce carrousel._ ”

[It’s not a problem. I want to be that carousel.]


	5. 12:51 is the time I found my voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5) we’re both running on three hours of sleep and oh my god how did my entire coffee spill down your shirt
> 
>  
> 
> 12:51 is the time my voice, found the words I sought
> 
> is it this stage I want? the world is shutting out for us
> 
> we were tense for sure, but we was confident
> 
> kiss me now that I’m older, I won’t try to control you
> 
> Friday nights have been lonely, take it slow but don’t warn me
> 
> \- 12:51, The Strokes
> 
> in which this got so far away from me that I have 8,000 words of awkward, mutual pining, texting, exhaustion, bathroom escapades, Wynonna/Dolls undertones, and could write a whole second part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could explain how I ended up with 8,000 words here, but I can't
> 
> they're all idiots, that's all this chapter is, everyone is ridiculous and crushing hard and that's all I got, oh, and sleep-deprivation is rough (but also so so so good)
> 
> any feedback is welcome! I think I'll write a second part to this where we see the rest of the night and the studying that may or may not get done...and we get an explanation fro Wynonnus-interuptus
> 
> hope you enjoy!!! thanks for reading :))

**_10:31pm_ ** _**Waverly** _

 

shiiiiiit i just realized i didn’t

properly cite my HUGE ass history

paper that’s due at 8-fucking-am

tomorrow morning!!!!

 

daaaamnitttt fml

 

my tired brain is sooo stupid

**_10:38pm Nicole_ **

 

ohhhh noooooo :(((

 

You have time though!!

 

It’s not even midnight yet! That's

good, right?

 

**_10:40pm Waverly_ **

 

*unimpressed side-eye emoji*

 

i mean, yes, true, but there are

soooooooo many citations!!!

 

it needs to be Chicago Style, so

that means footnotes, ugh

 

i usually like Chicago a LOT but

rn it’s just going to ruin my

page count!!

 

HOW did i mess this up so badly!?!

 

**_10:42pm Nicole_ **

 

Waves, it’s okay! Think happy

thoughts! Cute puppies! A still

in-tact Library of Alexandria!!

Free vanilla donuts!!!

 

Has the prof said that they include

footnotes in the page count?

 

**_10:42pm Waverly_ **

 

those r really happy thoughts!

 

well, no…so i guess the page

count changing doesn’t realllly

matter…

 

**_10:42pm Nicole_ **

 

See? That’s great! It’s okay!

 

Take a deep breath, you’re okay.

 

**_10:43pm Nicole_ **

 

What can I do to help?

 

**_10:43pm Waverly_ **

 

magically make all of my paper

have proper Chicago Style citations

asap so i can go to bed and get

more than 3 hours of sleep???

 

fuuuckkkk this suckssss

 

i'm so dumb

 

**_10:44pm Nicole_ **

 

You are anything BUT dumb!

It’s just a mistake, it happens!

 

I know it sucks – but you can

do it!!!

 

**_10:45pm Nicole_ **

 

I’m gonna swing by with coffee

in like an hour, okay?

 

**_10:46pm Waverly_ **

 

r u kidding

 

u r a SAINT

 

how r u THIS wonderful

 

**_10:48pm Waverly_ **

 

but wait, don’t u have that big test

in ur criminology class tmwr????

 

**_10:52pm Nicole_ **

 

Yeah, but I’ve been studying a lot.

I’m practically almost done!

 

I stayed up really late last night too

(lol why are both of us like this??)

 

And besides, I was gonna get coffee

anyways – breaks are good!

 

**_10:53pm Waverly_ **

 

lol

 

but i don’t wanna make u walk to

the libes!! or stay up!!!

 

**_10:53pm Nicole_ **

 

*selfie at very cluttered desk*

 

I’m already here! I’ve been holed

up since just after dinner.

 

And I’ll be up anyways, don’t

you even worry.

 

**_10:54pm Nicole_ **

 

Please just let me do this?

 

**_10:55pm Waverly_ **

 

fine, but i owe u one

 

**_10:55pm Nicole_ **

 

No you don’t!

 

**_10:55pm Waverly_ **

 

yes i do!

 

**_10:56pm Nicole_ **

 

omg Waves stopppp

 

Just let me buy you coffee!!

 

**_10:56pm Waverly_ **

 

but u don’t have to!!!

 

**_10:56pm Nicole_ **

 

No, but I want to!

 

pls.

 

and stop procrastinating

by arguing with me!!

 

**_10:57pm Waverly_ **

 

I am not procrastinating,

you’re procrastinating!

 

**_10:57pm Nicole_ **

 

You just actually spelled out

“I am” and “you’re” sooooo

 

ur definitely procrastinating ;))

 

**_10:57pm Waverly_ **

 

says the girl who’s still arguing!!!

**_10:57pm Nicole_ **

 

Touché.

 

**_10:59pm Waverly_ **

 

but ok, fine

 

u can buy me a damn coffee

 

**_10:59pm Nicole_ **

 

THANK YOU

 

See? Was that so hard???

 

**_11:00pm Nicole_ **

 

Your usual, right? Vanilla Latte?

 

**_11:00pm Waverly_ **

 

i'll have u know that that was the

hardest thing i’ve ever done

 

but yes, the usual, pls

 

**_11:01pm Waverly_ **

 

thank you :))) <333

 

**_11:01pm Nicole_ **

 

Haha, of course!!

 

Wait, you mean accepting free

coffee is harder than doing all

those Chicago style citations??

 

**_11:02pm Waverly_ **

 

ugh ur the worst why would u

remind me

 

**_11:03pm Nicole_ **

 

lol :)))))

 

And wait, didn’t you just say I

was a “SAINT” and ask how I’m

“this wonderful”??

 

**_11:03pm Waverly_ **

 

*unimpressed side-eye emoji*

 

this is why i can’t say nice things

to u!! they go straight to ur head!!

 

so i obviously rescind both of those

statements

 

**_11:04pm Nicole_ **

 

Fair enough :’)

 

(lol I’m just messing with you)

 

**_11:05pm Waverly_ **

 

(pfffft, i know, u dummy)

 

**_11:05pm Nicole_ **

 

(sweet, :) )

 

Now kick those citations

in the butt!!

 

**_11:05pm Waverly_ **

 

*selfie ft. an enthusiastic thumbs-up*

 

will do! and u go kick criminals

in the butt!!!

 

wait no

 

that didn’t come out right

 

kick CRIMINOLOGY in the butt

 

**_11:10pm Waverly_ **

not criminals

 

u would be a really shitty cop

if u did that

 

and u aren’t gonna be a shitty

cop, ur gonna be a great cop!!

 

so u aren’t gonna do that

 

**_11:15pm Waverly_ **

 

‘that’ obvs being the kicking

criminals bit

 

yeah

 

**_11:18pm Waverly_ **

 

ugh, good job studying – i very

clearly need to get on the same

level of ignoring my phone as u r

 

how do u do it

 

**_11:22pm Waverly_ **

 

Nicolllleeeee come back and

help me procrastinate

 

woe is me i'm V tired

 

have i mentioned that i hate

fixing citations with ALL of

my heart

 

**_11:27pm Nicole_ **

 

No, actually, I don’t think you’ve

mentioned that!

 

And no, not ignoring, even though

I should be haha – I was just

answering a q about some study

material that Dolls asked me!

 

**_11:29pm Nicole_ **

 

Waaaavesssss

 

You got this! Just make it like, less

than 45 min, then I’ll be there with

coffee.

 

**_11:30pm Waverly_ **

 

and a hug???

 

**_11:31pm Nicole_ **

 

And a hug!

 

**_11:31pm Waverly_ **

 

ok ur still a SAINT ;)

 

**_11:33pm Nicole_ **

 

Oh good! Phew, you had me

really worried!

 

and lmfao hahaha

 

of course it’s criminology and not

criminals, but thanks for the veeeery

thorough clarification :P

 

**_11:35pm Waverly_ **

 

anytime!! ;)

 

* * *

 

 

Nicole smiles as she turns her phone over, hopefully hiding any incoming messages or other distractions. She looks at the alarmingly large stack of books and papers alongside her open notebook, and sighs. She simply stares at the work for a few minutes, silently hoping that maybe it would all get done by itself – to no avail.

 

“You alright there Haught?” Dolls asks from across the table, pulling off his noise-cancelling headphones and peeking out from behind his own pile of books.

 

“Just fine, tired...I kinda want caffeine,” Nicole says.

 

“You aren’t _seriously_ going to get coffee at 11:40 at night, are you?” He says incredulously, glancing at his watch.

 

Nicole just shrugs and gestures helplessly at all of the untouched study materials in front of her. She hadn’t _really_ lied to Waverly when she had said she was almost done – not really – but she definitely still has a ways to go before she’ll feel as prepared as she wants to for this exam.

 

Dolls looks at her skeptically.

 

“Damnit,” she says, letting her chin fall forward towards the table to rest in the book open in front of her, a thick old tome titled _Crime and Punishment in Early Society: Vol. 2_.

“Does caffeine even _do_ anything for you anymore? I mean with the amount you have…” Dolls says, half-teasing and half-serious.

 

Nicole gives him a withering look. “Fuck off.”

 

He puts up his hands in surrender and smiles just slightly.

 

“But honestly? I have no idea.” Nicole shrugs – taking off her definitely-heavy-school-reading-of-tiny-text-and-lots-of-computer-screens induced pair of reading glasses that Waverly had carefully helped her pick out – and running a hand through her hair.

 

Having deemed her hair appropriately tousled, Nicole picks up the slightly rounded-off, square-ish, black and silver metal framed lenses and puts them back on. “At this point it’s probably just a placebo effect, but I’m still quite-literally buying into it.”

 

“The real reason college kids are broke, if you ask me,” Dolls offers, “is all the caffeine.” He adjusts his own pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

 

“Or other drinks, for some people…” Nicole says.

 

Dolls rolls his eyes, “if by ‘some people’ you mean Wynonna and ‘other drinks’ her whisky obsession, then yes.”

 

“How is that girl still alive?” Nicole asks, finally admitting to herself that she’s not going to be reading for a few minutes, and just pushing her glasses up to rest on her head. “Like, seriously. I don’t think any human’s liver should take as much alcohol as hers does.”

 

Dolls shrugs. “I could not tell you.”

 

Nicole leans her chair back, crossing her arms. “Not to mention the irony in the fact that she’s on the same pre-law slash cop track as we are, and yet she is _still_ the heaviest underage-drinker that I know.”

 

“You’re an underage drinker too,” Dolls counters.

 

“Okay, yes, but who isn’t? You are too!” Nicole retorts, and Dolls simply shrugs again. “But I’m not even _half_ as bad as Wynonna is!”

 

“You better mean half as _good_ , Haughtshot,” a familiar voice interjects, far too loudly for the library’s quietly stressed atmosphere.

 

Despite the loud interruption, Nicole can’t help but smile at her friend’s voice – and she’s 90% sure that she sees Dolls do the same before his face disappears back in his book.

 

“Hi Wynonna,” Nicole says.

 

“What’s good,” Wynonna replies casually, sinking into the one unoccupied chair at the crowded table. “Dolls, looking stressed as always.”

 

“Earp, being loud as always,” Dolls says, his eyes not leaving the page he’s skimming. “Have you even started studying?”

 

Wynonna scoffs in an offhand manner, as if the question was downright ridiculous, but Nicole sees the undertones of stress in her features.

 

Wordlessly, Nicole shoves some of the material from the Prisons Unit that she’s already reviewed towards the tiny unoccupied area in front of the other girl. The action earns her a small, grateful nod from Wynonna, who then immediately turns her focus back to annoying Dolls.

 

“Of course I have,” Wynonna responds, copying Nicole and pushing her chair onto its two back legs. “I could do this shit in my sleep.”

 

“Seeing as you already missed an exam this semester from sleeping in,” Dolls counters, “I would hope so.”

 

“Piss off,” Wynonna retorts.

 

Dolls once again holds up his hands in a supposedly placating gesture, but Nicole can read right through him. Her friend is definitely, not-so-secretly, really enjoying getting a rise out of Wynonna.

 

“I just call it like I see it,” Dolls says.

 

“Well check your damn prescription, then,” Wynonna snaps, flipping him off. “Because you’re obviously struggling to _really_ see it.”

 

Dolls scoffs and just flips Wynonna off right back, once again turning back to his reading.

 

Wynonna says, “dumbass” a little too loudly, before turning to Nicole, who was really more than happy to simply sit and watch the exchange between the two of them.

 

“So, Haught,” Wynonna starts, wrinkling her nose as she picks up one of the numerous study sheets in front of her. “What’s up?”

 

“Well, I’m currently, at best, halfway through the material that’s being covered in tomorrow’s exam, running on only three hours of sleep, and my brain is at the point where most of it has shut down completely except for a small part that just wants to look at cat videos on YouTube,” Nicole huffs. “But then again, what’s new?”

“What’s new,” Wynonna says conspiratorially, “is that Doc finished a history assignment before my baby sister.”

 

“Oof.” Nicole winces, knowing full well that she’ll be hearing all about it soon enough.

 

Waverly loves history, and mainly cares about learning when it comes to all her classes – but she has this inexplicable, albeit good-natured, rivalry when it comes to John Henry “Doc” Holliday, a Sophomore boy in her 300-level Marine Environmental History class that’s good friends with Dolls and Wynonna.

 

Doc, a history major, had wisely advised Waverly taking a 300-level course in her first year, so obviously, Waverly had immediately signed up. Wynonna has far too much fun, in Nicole’s opinion, bouncing between both sides, simultaneously cheering Doc on and telling her younger sister to “kick his sorry ass, baby girl.”

 

Dolls and Nicole have learned, through experience, that it’s best to stay out of it when possible. But Nicole can’t, really, not when Waverly is involved, and Dolls has a hard time hiding the fact that he wants Doc’s ego to be knocked down a good few notches by the younger Earp.

 

Two of Waverly’s closest friends, Jeremy Chetri and Chrissy Nedley, have also happily sided with Waverly (Jeremy with some hesitation, after he met Doc, Nicole noticed, but he supports his fellow freshman nevertheless).

 

Having taken a gap year, Nicole is technically considered to be a freshman, but is the same age as Dolls, Wynonna, and Doc. She arguably gets along better with those three sophomores than most other freshman simply because she’d been around on campus last year when they were in their first year by nature of living nearby. Between those three, Waverly, and Waverly’s closest friends, Jeremy, Chrissy, and a girl named Rosita, Nicole has a good group going, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

Suddenly a loud _thud_ interrupts Nicole’s wandering train of thought.

 

Glancing over, Nicole is met with Wynonna on the ground, chair clearly having just given out from beneath her, and the other girl looking like she is ready to unleash the wrath of hell on anyone who so much as looks at her wrong.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Nicole says, settling her own chair firmly on the ground and trying her best to keep from grinning, or god-forbid, _laughing_ at Wynonna’s misfortune.

 

“I’m _what_ ,” Wynonna growls, clearly misunderstanding Nicole’s question and thinking that Nicole was very unwisely referring to the unfortunate fact that Wynonna had just fallen over.

 

“Kidding. About Doc.” Nicole quickly clarifies. Wynonna’s face softens slightly and she shrugs as she resettles in her righted chair.

 

“Not according to him,” she replies. “Or Waverly, actually. He apparently came over and told her…she’s pretty pissed.”

 

“I can imagine,” Nicole says, already picturing Waverly’s endearingly-cute frown. Well, that and her terrifyingly intimidating pissed off look. “It’s such a bummer that it was just the citation mistake that kept her from finishing before Doc.”

 

“Yeah, she was saying that–” Wynonna pauses, frowning slightly. “Wait, how’d you know that, Haughtstuff?”

 

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Texting?” She offers. Wynonna gives her an unimpressed look. “Waverly and I are roommates, remember? We’re _friends_?”

 

Nicole ignores the way her brain continues on with: _oh, and I’m low-key-high-key helplessly in love with her?_

****

“I’m not stupid,” Wynonna retorts. “I was teasing, you ass.”

 

“Hey! I’m not the ass, you’re the–” Nicole starts to retaliate, but is quickly cut off.

 

“You’re the two people who are going to shut the hell up before they make me any more annoyed,” Dolls interjects.

 

“Oh, you think you’re annoyed _now_?” Wynonna asks, turning towards Dolls. “Just wait ‘til you see how cocky Doc is right now, it’s _the worst_. He thinks he’s such hot-shit right now. No offense, Nicole.”

 

“None taken,” she responds lightly, scoffing at the passing semi-name-pun.

 

“Wynonna,” Dolls says exasperatedly. “Please, shut up.”

 

“I was being nice!” she argues.

 

Nicole sighs. “You were being bearable at best, Wyn.”

 

“Same thing,” Wynonna grunts.

 

“Not really,” Nicole argues. “Being bearable and being nice are two very diff–”

 

“Would you two _quit it_ ,” Dolls hisses. Nicole shuts her mouth closed.

 

She shoots Dolls an apologetic look as she glances at her watch – and promptly swears.

 

“Shit, I told Waverly I’d be there in an hour, like, well…way over an hour ago,” she moans. “I’m the _worst_.”

 

“Yes, you are,” Wynonna says, her focus on the pencil she has just started spinning on the table.

 

“Wynonna, oh my _god_. Stop it!” Nicole practically whines.

 

“You sound like you’re a five-year-old,” is all Wynonna offers in response.

 

“Nicole,” Dolls cuts in. “You were going to get coffee, remember?”

 

Nicole is about to say no, that she really should just sleep, or study, but she sees Dolls’ silent pleading for some peace and quiet, and remembers her promise to Waverly.

 

Nicole glances at her watch. _12:18_.

 

“Yes!” She exclaims. “I was.” She grabs Wynonna by the back of her leather jacket and pulls her up from the table. “Let’s go.”

 

“But I just got here!” Wynonna says.

 

“Do you seriously want to study?” Nicole asks. Wynonna makes a face, and Nicole takes it as a no. “I didn’t think so. Now let’s go get coffee, and leave Dolls alone.”

 

“Fine,” Wynonna says, shaking off Nicole and leading the way downstairs towards the late-night café. “He’s not that fun anyways.”

 

Nicole is already walking after Wynonna, but takes a second to mouth an “I’m sorry” to Dolls as they hurry off. He simply shakes his head, affectionately even, and gives her a small smile.

 

Nicole exhales in a loud _huff_ , whisper-yelling “Wynonna, wait up!” before properly jogging to catch the other girl, trying to shake off the tendrils of sleep that are threatening to overwhelm her mind and body.

 

Hopefully Waverly is more awake than she is.

 

* * *

 

Waverly Earp is well and sound asleep. She hadn’t meant to doze off, but the quiet lull of overlapping typing, the hum of various electronics and a handful of air ducts in the corner of the library she was in, and the three hours of sleep that she was running on all very strongly said otherwise.

 

When Nicole hadn’t showed up at the 45-minute mark, Waverly hadn’t really worried about it. She knew Nicole, sometimes the other girl gets caught up in things, or, more likely in this scenario, just falls asleep. Besides, Waverly had found a good working groove, and had actually managed to get quite a few corrected citations completed.

 

Then the hour mark hit, and so did the wall.

 

Around 12:00, Waverly could feel her eyes start to droop, the adrenaline-powered burst of energy that had resulted from Doc _freaking_ Holliday coming over at 11:40 and telling her he had finished the assignment _before_ her had been equivalent to chugging an energy drink (not that she’d actually ever had one, they sounded gross, but according to Wynonna the effect was similar).

 

Wynonna had found her quickly after Doc had left, and given her a small pep-talk in her own Wynonna-way, and from that, Waverly had managed to complete one, maybe one and a half more pages of citations (impressive, really, given how incredibly exhausted she was) – before she had retreated into the hoodie she had taken from Nicole’s closet in the afternoon, and finally let her eyes close.

 

Sleep had come moments later, and it had been _glorious_.

 

It was glorious, at least, until she hears her sister’s voice telling her to “get up! get up! get up! get up!” and feels a hand shake her shoulder far too roughly.

 

Waverly jolts awake almost immediately, gasping in a deep breath, and trying to inconspicuously wipe drool off of the corner of her mouth.

 

“Wynonna!” Waverly exclaims. “What the hell!”

 

“Oh good,” Wynonna says. “You’re awake.”

 

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” Waverly glares at her.

 

Wynonna shrugs, and leans up against one of the nearby bookshelves, and that’s when Waverly registers the other person present.

 

Nicole stands with an apologetic smile on her face, only a few feet from where Waverly sits. She’s wearing her too-big, 80s-ish flannel with the sleeves rolled up just past the cuffs, a plain white t-shirt, and her favorite pair of Adidas soccer pants. On her feet, there’s a questionable socks-and-sandals combo that Waverly simultaneously adores and is slightly horrified by. Nicole’s hair looks softly tousled, just like it is in the morning when she glares at Waverly from her bed when it’s before 10am on Saturday and Waverly is trying to coax her into getting up.

 

Waverly’s eyes finally fall on the reading glasses that are pushed up on Nicole’s head, and she feels her stomach flip.

 

 _Why_ she helped Nicole pick those out, she doesn’t know. Well, okay, she does.

 

For one, by no fault of her own, Nicole sometimes (albeit more and more rarely) tends to make questionable fashion choices, so Waverly’s assistance was obviously needed. And two, Waverly can’t really explain it, but she just has a _thing_ for glasses. So sue her if she chose a pair that would look particularly good on Nicole. That was the point, wasn’t it? Glasses should look good _and_ serve their purpose.

 

But based on the way her ( _Nicole’s_ ) sweatshirt suddenly feels too warm and stuffy, Waverly thinks that she may be paying for that supposed “functionality” now.

 

“Hey! Look at that, babygirl,” Wynonna exclaims, having come to stand next to Waverly and look at her computer screen from over her shoulder while Waverly was focused on looking at Nicole and her flannel and her Adidas pants and her socks and sandals combo. “Over two more pages done! That’s great.”

 

Wynonna plants a sloppy kiss on the top of Waverly’s head, and straightens up, stretching until her back cracks. She walks around the table over to where Nicole has yet to move, aside from setting down the two coffees she’s been holding.

 

Nicole, who is still looking at Waverly with an expression that Waverly can’t quite decipher, but doesn’t really mind. She almost appears to be taking in Waverly the same way Waverly is taking in Nicole. For a moment, as she watches Nicole fidget almost nervously with the glasses on her forehead, Waverly doesn’t care that she has almost eight pages of citations left to go through.

 

“Okay,” Wynonna says. “I’m gonna leave and let you nerds do homework or whatever the hell it is you do. I think Dolls has had enough focused time. I need to bug him about Doc’s ego, which is _way_ too inflated right now. You got this, Waves, no problem.”

 

Wynonna shoots Waverly a little quirk of her lip, which is her everyday version of a huge, loving smile, before turning to Nicole and punching her lightly in the bicep.

 

“Thanks for the help, Haughtpocket, if you want to review more, you know where to find me. I think you actually may know this shit. How, I couldn’t fucking tell you, but good luck studying, or whatever.”

 

Waverly fights down a laugh at Nicole’s shocked expression at Wynonna’s arguably kind words. Wynonna then, apparently deciding that she’d been far too positively expressive, takes one of Waverly’s spare pieces of paper, quickly scribbles a crude drawing (most likely of a penis, Waverly guesses, knowing her sister), folds the paper, and places it in a random book, before wandering back into the stacks.

 

Waverly watches as Nicole follows Wynonna’s departure, before she turns her attention back towards where Waverly sits.

 

Waverly sends her roommate a sheepish smile, and is rewarded with a grin.

 

“I’m so sorry I’m so late,” Nicole starts, grabbing the two coffees and carefully setting one down in front of Waverly as she takes a seat at the table. “I got sidetracked,” she gestures vaguely to where Wynonna had just disappeared.

 

“I assumed so,” Waverly said. At Nicole’s slightly guilty expression, she quickly clarifies. “Which is _not_ a problem! I got some work done and even power napped, so it worked out perfectly.”

 

“ _12:21_ ,” Nicole sighs. “That’s definitely past my predicted time of 11:45.”

 

“Nicole,” Waverly says, placing a hand over Nicole’s where it lies on the table between them. Nicole looks up with an expression of slight surprise. “It’s fine!” She smiles. “You’re fine.”

 

Waverly pauses before she squeezes Nicole’s hand and says, “we’re fine,” and then lets it go.

 

Nicole gives her a searching look before seeming to accept Waverly’s words, smiles softly, and takes a long sip of her drink.

 

They sit there in silence for a minute, each sipping their drinks, before Nicole breaks the quiet.

 

“Is that my hoodie?”

 

Waverly nearly chokes on her very hot coffee.

 

Coughing, she clears her throat before she continues, not quite meeting Nicole’s now concerned, and very curious gaze.

 

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I should’ve asked, I’m sorry –”

 

“Waves, it’s okay,” Nicole replies. Waverly looks and relaxes a little upon seeing the softness in Nicole’s eyes. “Seriously. You know that I’m totally fine with you borrowing my things.”

 

Waverly hesitates. “Okay.”

 

Nicole smiles – a full smile with dimples and a wrinkled nose – and busies herself with pulling out her study materials, digging around in her backpack for a moment before she sets down a stack of books and pulls her glasses back onto her face.

 

“This,” Nicole says sarcastically. “Is going to be _so_ fun.”

 

Waverly laughs, and ignores the way her stomach flips as she looks at Nicole’s tousled hair and tries to pull her focus back from where it has suddenly latched itself onto Nicole’s face – specifically her glasses.

 

“Well, I’ve heard that good company makes a difference,” Waverly offers, trying to cover up her somewhat-obvious staring, “so I’ll be fine.”

 

“Well then,” Nicole grins crookedly. “So will I.”

 

* * *

 

 

The two work in silence for almost half an hour, before Waverly leans back in her chair and sighs loudly.

 

“This is the worst,” she says. “It’s only 12:51 but I just want to _sleep_.”

 

Nicole looks up at her, and nods, “most definitely the worst.”

 

“Are you almost done?”

 

Nicole shoots her an incredulous look, and gestures with a deadpan expression at the spread of work laid out in front of her. “Most definitely _not_.”

 

Waverly wrinkles her nose. “Didn’t you say you were close when we were texting?”

 

Nicole feels guilty for a split second before she shrugs. “Close is a relative term,”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Waverly replies.

 

“Takes one to know one,” Nicole retorts, trying, and failing, to ignore the way that her hoodie is _far_ too big on Waverly. The shoulders hang a little loose on both sides, and Waverly has drawn the strings of the hood together and tied a small bow with it up around her head. Nicole can’t help but vaguely think that Waverly kind of looks like a gnome, or maybe a turtle.

 

Her heart skips.

 

“You need to work on your comebacks,” Waverly says, laughing and sticking out her tongue at Nicole’s teasing huff of annoyance. “That one didn’t even make grammatical sense, let alone contextual sense.” She smiles at Nicole and pauses for a split second, seemingly considering something before she blinks twice as if to clear her head, and leans forward just slightly.

 

Nicole watches as Waverly comes in closer, almost in slow motion. Her arms move up, and Nicole tracks Waverly’s hands as close as she can before her focus shifts and all she sees is Waverly’s slightly blurry face. Between her exhaustion and her glasses, Nicole’s eyes can’t adjust quick enough, so she lets herself close them for just a moment, forcing herself to keep them closed instead of looking to see the dusting of freckles on Waverly’s face that she _knows_ are merely inches away from her face.

 

A moment later, Nicole opens her eyes, having felt her glasses be gently pulled off. Waverly is no longer blurry, but Nicole wishes with all of her being that she was – because that would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than what she’s looking at right now.

 

Because right now, her roommate, Waverly Earp – who Nicole is having a harder and harder time convincing herself she’s not a little (lot) bit in love with – is sitting across from her, in _her_ old high school Varsity softball jacket, smiling shyly at her, wearing _her_ glasses.

 

Nicole is pretty sure she dies a little, or that she at least has passed out and this is a sneak peak of whatever better place may or may not exist after life.

 

Her mouth goes dry, and all at once she loses any even slightly coherent train of thought that might’ve been in her head just a moment before.

 

“Maybe these are why you were able to focus so well earlier,” Waverly says softly, tapping the glasses where they rest on the bridge of her nose. Nicole knows that it’s supposed to just be teasing, but she can’t register anything beyond the way that Waverly is looking at her with a mischievous expression that could almost be labeled as coy.

 

“Yeah,” Nicole manages after a silence a beat too long, hoping her voice doesn’t give her away. “Yeah, maybe they are.”

 

Waverly gazes at her, her expression oddly searching, before she continues, her words sounding inexplicably loaded to Nicole’s ears despite their simplicity.

 

“How do I look? Scholarly?”

 

Nicole swallows, her mouth dry and suddenly refusing to cooperate. _Get a grip, Haught!_ She silently admonishes herself, but some voice in the back of her sleep-deprived brain tells her for once in her life to be a little brave.

 

“You look beautiful,” Nicole breathes, immediately wishing she could take the sentence back, because how can she possibly sound so _stupidly_ _honest_?

 

“Yeah?” Waverly replies.

 

Nicole nods, still struggling to think of coherent thoughts (she wants to blame it on her exhaustion, but Waverly sends her a small, but bright smile, and Nicole knows she can’t). She continues quickly, trying to cover up the sentiment that she’s scared hangs heavily between them, but still manages to say something embarrassing. “Yeah, really good. Very scholarly.”

 

 _Jeez_ , she thinks. _Can I be_ any _more_ _awkward?_

 

“Thanks,” Waverly says, beaming. She then takes Nicole’s phone from where it sits on the table, and Nicole just watches in silence as Waverly swipes open the camera. The other girl flips it to “selfie mode,” and snaps a picture of herself snuggled into Nicole’s hoodie, glasses on, and face spread in a big smile. Nicole just sits there quietly and watches.

 

Waverly then checks the photo, nods – seemingly approving it – and puts Nicole’s phone back down as if nothing had just happened.

 

Waverly takes off the glasses, and turns back to Nicole. Gray-green eyes meet brown, and Nicole can’t bring herself to look away despite the growing tension that she feels between them.

 

“As much as I think they might kind of sort of work for me,” Waverly says quietly. “I think they look _much_ better on you.”

 

She gently eases the frames back onto Nicole’s face and sits back, giving Nicole a playfully appreciative look. “See? Very scholarly.”

 

Nicole’s gaze flits around Waverly’s face, dropping, unbidden, to her lips, before coming back to her eyes. Waverly holds her stare for a moment, biting her lip just barely (in a way that distracts Nicole way too much), before doing a similar analysis of Nicole’s face (and Nicole swears she almost _dies_ when Waverly’s look darts down to her lips before coming back up to her eyes).

 

Slower than Nicole even thought possible, Waverly brings one of her hands up to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Nicole’s ear, and gently brings her palm to cup her jaw – fingers impossibly light on the skin behind Nicole’s ear.

 

Nicole doesn’t breathe for a moment, and, she registers fleetingly, neither does Waverly.

 

Nicole feels herself lean almost imperceptivity into Waverly’s soft hand, and is about to steel her confidence and finally just _ask_ Waverly if she could kiss her, when a loud clatter of falling books from downstairs breaks the moment.

 

Waverly jerks backwards, and Nicole does the same – but not without her hand glancing Waverly’s still mostly full cup of coffee…and knocking it right into Waverly’s lap.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Waverly hisses as the lid comes off and the drink spills.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Nicole exclaims. “I’m so sorry!”

 

Waverly scoots her chair back quickly, hands darting to try to pull the soaked pair of yoga pants away from her skin.

 

“Gosh, Waves, I’m so sorry,” Nicole says, shifting to kneel next to Waverly’s chair. She’s not quite sure what to do with herself, so she just crouches there, hesitant and feeling like a dumb-ass, which she’s pretty certain she is.

 

“’S’okay, I’m fine,” Waverly manages, clearly in _some_ amount of pain. Nicole winces.

 

“What can I do.”

 

“Well, unless you have napkins, aloe, and a spare pair of pants, I don’t think much,” Waverly says. “Or if you’re magic or something.”

 

Nicole considers for a moment, and then gestures for Waverly to give her a second. She stands and grabs her bag from the other chair before returning to crouch next to Waverly. She begins rummaging through the bag and ignores Waverly’s question of what she’s doing, just for a second, so that she can focus on the task at hand.

 

A few seconds later, Nicole smiles triumphantly, holding out a small bottle of aloe, and a pair of baggy basketball shorts.

 

Waverly looks at her incredulously. “No _fucking_ way.”

 

“Yes fucking way,” Nicole says, and then promptly blushes under the look of awe that Waverly is giving her. “I work at the outdoor shop, remember? They have all sorts of random stuff. Wynonna got sunburned the other day and refused to do anything about it herself, so I grabbed this today and just forgot to get it to her.”

 

“Classic Wynonna,” Waverly quips. “But what about the shorts.” She pauses and then gives Nicole a teasingly wide-eyed look. “You're not _really_ magic are you?”

 

Nicole snorts and shakes her head. “Sadly not. I just went to the gym before dinner, so I have these…they’re not clean but…” She holds them out.

 

Waverly takes them with a grateful smile. “You’re _amazing_. These’ll work just fine.”

 

Nicole returns the smile. “Great.  Should we maybe get you dried off?”

 

“Yes, please.” Waverly says. “This shit is pret-ty warm. Or _Haught,_ as I’m sure Wynonna would put it.”

 

Nicole rolls her eyes as they stand up. “She would, wouldn’t she. And Waverly, I’m _so_ sorry.”

 

“Nicole,” Waverly puts a gentle hand on her forearm, pausing Nicole in her tracks. “You’re totally fine. It was an accident! And besides, _I_ left my coffee by the edge, really, it’s my fault. Do you mind helping me clean up?”

 

Nicole shakes her head, because of course she’ll help, even if Waverly didn’t ask.

 

Neither of them seem to want to acknowledge _why_ they’d been so startled. Nicole thinks that they could probably blame the clatter of books that came from downstairs (something that she can’t help but feel is inexplicably tied to Wynonna), but as she follows Waverly towards the bathroom, she lets herself consider the split-second _before_ the interruption…and feels her face burn.

 

Had she _seriously_ been about to ask Waverly if she could kiss her? Had Nicole really been inches away from kissing her roommate? The girl who she’d been crushing on since day one (if she was being honest with herself)?

 

She mentally smacks herself, and in the process, accidently runs into Waverly as she pauses outside the bathroom door. Nicole’s hands automatically go to Waverly’s waist to steady the shorter girl (and maybe herself, really), but she promptly removes them upon realizing what she was doing.

 

“Ugh, sorry,” Nicole says. “I keep messing up.”

 

“No, you don’t. You’re fine!” Waverly counters as she opens the door and enters, gesturing at Nicole to go in. “I stopped randomly.”

 

Nicole just hums.

 

“Are you always this guilt-ridden at 1am?” Waverly teases gently. Nicole smiles slightly and shrugs.

 

“Honestly couldn’t tell you.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Waverly steps into a stall, and Nicole busies herself with splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to wake herself up more – at least that’s what she tells herself.

 

She hears shuffling, and a small sigh before Waverly speaks.

 

“Nicole?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you mind passing me some paper towels, please?”

 

“Sure.” Nicole grabs a handful and hands them to Waverly, whose outstretched hand waits patiently underneath the stall door.

 

“Thanks,” Waverly says.

 

“Sure,” Nicole repeats and steps back towards the sinks again.

 

Someone Nicole doesn’t recognize walks in, nods briefly in greeting, and steps into the largest stall. Nicole looks at the ceiling.

 

There’s more noises as Waverly dries off her skin where the coffee spilled, and suddenly Nicole feels completely ridiculous. Waverly didn’t need her help, all that she’s doing is standing awkwardly in the women’s third floor bathroom, waiting for her friend as she changed into yet more of her own clothing. She’s about to tell Waverly that she’ll just meet her back at the table, when Waverly speaks once again.

 

“Nic?”

 

“Yeah?” Nicole feels silly, having had the exact same exchange less than five minutes before. She moves to grab more paper towels, assuming that’s what Waverly needs, before the conversation takes a much different turn.

 

“Can you come in here for a second?”

 

Nicole freezes. “What?”

 

“I uh…” Waverly slightly muffled voice almost sounds nervous.

 

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks quickly, suddenly worried. Waverly had spilled on her pants, so why did her voice sound like that?

 

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine. I just need some help…”

 

Frowning, Nicole ignores the misplaced embarrassment she feels as she thinks about the other random person in the bathroom who can hear all of this conversation, and knocks gently on Waverly’s stall door. There’s some fumbling on Waverly’s side, before the door swings in and Nicole tries, and fails, to smother her laugh.

 

Waverly had somehow managed to get Nicole’s sweatshirt stuck over her head, and it’s clear that she’s moving blindly at the moment, based on the way Waverly’s movements are small and careful. Nicole can imagine the glare on Waverly’s face as the other girl grumbles at her to shut up.

 

“Alright, alright, hold on. I got you,” Nicole says gently. She steps into the small stall, and has to press herself against the side opposite of Waverly to close the door. Even with the door closed, the stall is cramped, and Nicole feels her face heat up once again upon seeing part of Waverly’s bare stomach from where her tank top had ridden up where it was tangled with Nicole’s sweatshirt.

 

“Ok, let’s get you out of this,” Nicole continues. She hears a quiet snort from the other stall and feels herself blush more, partially out of embarrassment, and partially because, out of context, she can imagine what that sentence might suggest…

 

There’s a muffled “thanks” as Nicole begins to work at the sweatshirt, tugging it gently up Waverly’s outstretched arms, past her elbows where it’d gotten stuck. She shimmies it over Waverly’s shoulders, and smiles softly as Waverly pulls it the rest of the way off.

 

And then promptly stops breathing as Waverly’s tank top comes off with it.

 

The two are silent for a moment, just looking at each other, and all Nicole can hear is blood rushing in her ears. Did the stall just get even smaller? Was that even possible?

 

A toilet flushes, and they both start slightly, and while luckily there’s no coffee near them to be knocked over, this time Nicole instead manages to trip (having failed to notice her untied shoelace, that of _course_ she steps on now), and has to catch herself so she doesn’t accidently crash into Waverly, because _that_ would be _very_ bad.

 

Although, once she stops herself from falling forward, Nicole thinks that their position right now might be worse.

 

One of Nicole’s hands is braced against the side of the stall, positioned near Waverly’s head, and the other rests gently on Waverly’s bare hip. It seems that they both have the same instinctive move when it comes to stabilizing each other, because Nicole instantly registers the feel of Waverly’s soft, warm hands on her waist, holding firmly so she doesn’t accidently continue forward.

 

“Sorry,” Nicole breathes. Waverly swallows, wide eyes not leaving Nicole’s, and slowly shakes her head.

 

“Not your fault.”

 

The sink turns on, and Nicole swears that the other person in the bathroom is taking an extra long time, probably soaping their hands twice just to spite Nicole.

 

Neither Nicole or Waverly seem to be able to move. After what seems like hours, Nicole finally hears the whir of the paper-towel machine, a soft creak as the door opens and closes, and then the bathroom is silent save for the sound of their breathing.

 

Breathing which, Nicole registers hazily, has grown a little shallow.

 

Nicole pushes herself off the wall, and removes her hand from Waverly’s bare waist, but Waverly keeps her hands on Nicole.

 

“You okay?” Waverly whispers.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Nicole keeps her gaze carefully trained on Waverly’s face, and refuses to let herself even glance at Waverly’s bare stomach, or the black bra she’s wearing, or at her too-large basketball shorts that hang loosely on Waverly’s hips.

 

“I’ll let you finish up,” Nicole offers, moving to step away, but stopping as Waverly’s hands flex slightly where they rest on Nicole’s waist.

 

Waverly exhales, almost shakily, and Nicole quickly glances up at the ceiling, trying to regain control of the heat that’s spreading through her entire body. Her face feels like it’s on fire. In fact, her entire body feels like someone took a match and let it set her bloodstream aflame. She finds that doesn’t hate it, but it’s making her breathing uneven, and she doesn’t particularly want to give away just how much Waverly’s touch is affecting her.

 

“Wait.”

 

Waverly’s voice is so soft that Nicole almost misses it, except she doesn’t, because she’s found that she can never miss when Waverly is talking – which proves to be very difficult when Wynonna joins them when they’re studying and starts conversations with Waverly about various questionable decisions that the older Earp had made over the previous 24 hours.

 

“Yeah?” Nicole breathes.

 

“I uh…I put some aloe on my thighs, where most of the coffee spilled,” Waverly says quietly, not quite meeting Nicole’s eyes. Nicole pointedly ignores thinking about the first half of the sentence. “And I got where it landed on my stomach…”

 

Nicole bites her lip, hoping as hard as she could that Waverly would stop talking before Nicole’s body spontaneously combusted.

 

“But I uh, I must’ve twisted funny when it spilled, because there’s a spot on my lower back that kinda hurts, and I can’t quite reach it.”

 

About five million thoughts run through Nicole’s head at once as she registers Waverly’s words.

 

One. Of course Waverly managed to get some of the coffee on her back, somehow – by now Nicole has learned to expect the unexpected from the Earp sisters.

 

Two. The coffee had clearly been warmer than Nicole had originally thought, because Waverly didn’t often admit when things were hurting her, but she is now, so the liquid must’ve been particularly hot.

 

Three. Waverly is lying. Nicole knows that Waverly is flexible, she knows that this spot on Waverly’s back is well within reach, and that Waverly can put aloe on it herself. There’s no way she actually needs Nicole’s help.

 

Four. Why the hell was she asking for help, then?

 

“Nicole?” Waverly prompts.

 

Five. She’s been quiet for too long.

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Nicole says, snapping herself out of her head. She examines Waverly’s face, and finds no sign of malignance (not that she was expecting any, Waverly doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, but to Nicole, the thought of touching Waverly Earp’s bare skin feels a little bit like torture). If anything, the expression on Waverly’s face is an odd combination of earnestness, confidence, and a lot of nerves.

 

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’ll help,” Nicole says. Waverly finally removes her hands from Nicole’s waist, as if she hadn’t even realized they’d still be resting there, and grabs the container of aloe from the pocket of the shorts. She hands it to Nicole, nervousness clear on her face, and Nicole gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

 

Nicole doesn’t look at Waverly as she doles out a small amount of the gel, and closes the cap as she registers Waverly turning around in her peripheral vision.

 

“Okay,” Nicole says quietly. “Ready?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Nicole inhales as she reaches out to gently dab the gooey substance on Waverly’s lower back – which is, unsurprisingly, very muscular.

 

Waverly shivers and hisses quietly as Nicole’s fingers meet her back, and Nicole pulls away immediately.

 

“I’m fine,” Waverly says quickly. “The aloe is just cold. You’re good.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

 

Nicole returns to the task, and moves quickly, gently spreading the gel on the red patch on Waverly’s back.

 

“All done,” Nicole says. Waverly turns, and she’s closer than Nicole had originally thought. She looks up at Nicole and smiles as she untangles her tank top from Nicole’s sweatshirt.

 

Nicole watches absentmindedly as Waverly pulls the sweatshirt back on, and grins brightly when she’s finished.

 

Then, quicker than Nicole can register, Waverly stands on her tip-toes, presses a quick kiss to Nicole’s cheek, and unlocks the stall and steps out. She rinses her hands quickly, and looks back at Nicole, who can’t do much more than stand in the stall, face red and heart beating faster than she’s willing to admit.

 

“Thanks,” Waverly says bashfully.

 

Nicole shakes herself, “of course.”

 

Waverly looks at her expectantly, and Nicole steps out of the stall.

 

“I’ll meet you back at the table in a few,” Nicole manages. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”

 

Waverly shrugs and smiles. “Okay, sounds good. See you soon.” Then she opens the door and is gone.

 

Nicole promptly staggers forward, hands going to brace herself on the sink, as she exhales shakily and draws in a deep breath.

 

She looks at herself in the mirror, and frowns at the way that her face is almost as red as her hair.

 

“Get a grip, Haught,” she mutters. Her face stays red.

 

She splashes more water on her face, this time not even trying to write it off as waking herself up, and breathes slowly until her heartbeat slows to its regular pace.

 

 _This_ , she thinks as she exits the bathroom, _this is about to be the longest night of my life_.


	6. well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6) it’s 3am and I’m still in the library studying and I’m getting so overwhelmed and tired and will you hold my hand?
> 
> and she says baby, it’s 3am I must be lonely  
> oh, when she says baby  
> well I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes  
> and the rain’s gonna wash away I believe this  
> \- 3AM, Matchbox Twenty
> 
> in which Waverly panics, the Earp sisters have a heart-to-heart, and Nicole is as supportive and wonderful as ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a HUGE thanks to @tacosaretasty1989 on tumblr for reading over this chapter and telling me to trust myself on it...
> 
> I was originally planning on carrying over the tension from last chapter, but this went a different direction that was super cathartic to write. The interaction between the Earp sisters just wrote itself, and I hope it maybe resonates with some of you, because I know I've been there/am there with Waverly.
> 
> anyways, I hope you enjoy, and I'll be back soon with more ridiculous pining, tension, and goofiness :)
> 
> please leave any comments or feedback if you'd like!!

Waverly had never been more conflicted in a moment than in the one that she had just shared with Nicole Haught in that stupid bathroom stall.

 

She’d gotten out quickly, obviously, after she made the massive mistake of having Nicole help her put the aloe on her back. But that moment, that exact second when Nicole’s gentle fingertips had brushed against the bare skin of her back, paired with the startlingly cool gel, had _almost_ been enough to completely shatter what little remained of Waverly’s defenses when it came to _not_ kissing her roommate senseless in the library’s third-floor bathroom.

 

So, she’d panicked – fairly enough, in her opinion – and returned to their study area as quickly as she could.

 

It’s only upon sitting down at the table that Waverly considers the multiple mistakes she’s made.

 

One. She’s fallen for her roommate. _Hard_. Complicating? Yes. End of the world? Hopefully not.

 

Two. The coffee on the table hasn’t been cleaned up, and has dripped down on to a few of the reference books she’d grabbed for her paper. That’ll be slightly problematic, seeing as they’re library books...

 

Three. She’s literally only wearing underwear, a bra, a sweatshirt and some baggy shorts. Also rather problematic, because they’re _Nicole’s clothes_ , and the more she thinks about that fact, the warmer she feels.

 

Four. She just kissed Nicole on the cheek. Which is harmless, sure, and she’s done it before, but this time it was right after she’d let her hands rest on Nicole’s waist for a _minute._ All in all, decidedly less harmless.

 

Five. Nicole is going to be back any minute, and the last thing Waverly thinks she can deal with is being alone with Nicole. Not for any bad reason – it’s simply that it’s 1:12 in the morning, and Waverly currently has alarmingly poor judgement on what actions she feels are appropriate when it comes to interacting with Nicole Haught.

 

Very problematic.

 

In fact, in that moment that Nicole, sweet, tiredly-clumsy Nicole, had tripped on her shoelace and lurched forward to almost, _almost_ pin Waverly against the side of the stall…well, Waverly had almost passed out. And sure, she could blame it on the extreme exhaustion all she wanted, but she knows that what she felt in that moment, was this inexplicable _desire_. And that...well, that scared her a _hell_ of a lot more than the prospect of Doc Holliday getting a higher grade than she does on this stupid history assignment.

 

So, yeah, Waverly is just a little nervous for Nicole to return.

 

The look in Nicole’s eyes as she’d steadied herself by gently grasping Waverly’s waist with one hand and bracing herself against the side of the stall with the other was one that Waverly had never seen in her friend’s eyes before.

 

The look had included shock, of course, but if Waverly allowed herself to think a little hopefully, there might’ve been a little bit of want in Nicole’s eyes too.

 

After about a minute of silent panicking, Waverly rolls her eyes at herself for being so ridiculous. She has the perfect safety net: something, or someone, that could make this situation both a whole lot more awkward, while also less awkward, and hopefully keep Waverly from doing anything too irreversibly stupid...like kissing her roommate.

 

**_1:13am Waverly_ **

 

hey! can u pls come back

upstairs? I need some help

 

**_1:13am Wynonna_ **

 

yeah give me a sec gotta

finish teasing Dolls about

his dumb face real quick

 

and finish picking up some

books

 

I knocked over a full

re-shelfing cart like 30

min ago cause Dolls

doubted I actually would

 

everything ok??

 

**_1:14am Waverly_ **

 

we both know u like Dolls’

face

 

and yes

 

wait, did u seriously knock

over a bunch of books

 

and usually i’d say take

ur time, but if u could

hurry i wouldn’t b too

opposed

 

**_1:14am Wynonna_ **

 

shut up his face IS stupid

 

yes! Dolls said “do it, you won’t”

 

Waves, you know I always do it

 

and wait, you’re scaring me a bit

here baby girl, should I bring my

pocket knife??

 

**_1:14am Waverly_ **

 

everything is fine, i promise!!

 

u should work on not always

doing it

 

And Wyn, that ‘pocket knife’

of urs is more like a medium

sized dagger, pls don’t bring it

 

why do u even have that with u

 

**_1:15am Wynonna_ **

 

it’s not my fault that the

“pocket” size on this jacket

is fucking huge!

 

(thank god for men’s pockets

am I right)

 

and it’s already on my person,

sorry not sorry!!

 

besides, it’s just standard operating

procedure for when my baby

sister asks for me

 

**_1:15am Waverly_ **

 

that’s both v sweet and

v worrying

 

**_1:15am Wynonna_ **

 

I think mostly sweet, if

anything

 

**_1:16am Wynonna_ **

 

but speaking of sweet, where’s

Haughtshot when you need

her?

 

**_1:16am Waverly_ **

 

um she’s studying and I

have a q that only u

can answer?

 

**_1:16am Wynonna_ **

 

are you asking me or

telling me there Waves?

 

**_1:17am Waverly_ **

 

…

 

doesn’t matter

 

ur taking forever, it does

NOT take this long to

go upstairs

 

and before you compare

it to climbing a mountain,

which you haven’t done

 

pls just shut up and get

here quickly instead

 

**_1:17am Wynonna_ **

 

this IS like climbing a

mountain, idk why Haught

and Dolls do shit like

that for fun

 

fuckin dorks

 

**_1:20am Wynonna_ **

 

ok just left Dolls, sorry

 

he had a question, that

dumbass

 

and there were a few

leftover books

 

**_1:20am Waverly_ **

 

u were def smiling

affectionately as u

wrote that

 

**_1:21am Wynonna_ **

 

no I wasn’t

 

shut up

 

I’m en route

 

**_1:21am Waverly_ **

 

thank you <333

 

**_1:22am Wynonna_ **

 

anytime Waves

 

but you have a

powdered donut for

me, right?

 

**_1:23am Waverly_ **

 

ur insufferable

 

just get your ass up here

 

**_1:23am Wynonna_ **

 

yeah yeah don’t get your

panties in a twist, I’m omw

 

**_1:36am Waverly_ **

 

*halo face emoji*

 

**_1:36am Wynonna_ **

 

*eye-rolling emoji*

 

* * *

 

Waverly smiles at her sister’s final text, before nearly throwing her phone as she hears some rustling from within the shelves nearby.

 

A second later, a smiling but semi-serious looking Wynonna emerges and walks lazily towards where Waverly is sitting.

 

“Jeez,” Waverly says, faking frustration. “Took you long enough.”

 

“I blame Dolls.”

 

“You always do.”

 

Wynonna grins. “He’s always to blame.”

 

Waverly shoots her a knowing look, one that always makes Wynonna tell her to “quit sending heart eyes at me, he’s an ass.” This time, however, Wynonna just scoffs and sits down in the chair that Nicole had occupied almost half an hour earlier.

 

“What’s up, baby girl?” Wynonna prompts, voice surprisingly gentle. She doesn’t even ask Waverly where Nicole is, even though Waverly had clearly lied about Nicole being present and studying at the table.

 

Waverly bites her lip. This is stupid. She doesn’t need to call Wynonna to take care of her problems! Besides, what even _is_ her problem? Because if she takes a second and considers her situation now, there’s not _really_ anything wrong.

 

Except that Waverly really wanted, and _wants_ , to kiss Nicole, and the tension in that tiny stall had been _far_ too much…and she doesn’t want to mess anything up, so maybe Wynonna could just, _interrupt_ whatever moment may or may not have been happening (there’s plenty more books to knock over) to ensure that Waverly can properly finish her report, and that Nicole finishes studying, and that they _all_ get a few hours of semi-decent sleep.

 

Okay, so maybe there’s a bit of a problem.

 

“Um, not really anything huge…”

 

“Waves,” Wynonna says, giving her an unimpressed look. “Baby girl, you’re my sister. I know when you’re bullshitting me, and right now? You’re _definitely_ bullshitting me. Hardcore.”

 

Waverly tries to ignore the way her stomach flips at even the mere thought of telling Wynonna about what had just happened, and she takes a deep breath. Not knowing exactly what to say, Waverly instead does what she’s best at when in uncomfortable situations, and turns to teasing…and changing the subject.

 

“For the record, I know when you’re bullshitting too, Wyn.” Wynonna raises an eyebrow.

 

Waverly continues, leaning forward towards Wynonna, grinning conspiratorially. “Take when we were just texting...you’re _totally_ into Dolls!”

 

“What?” Wynonna exclaims, glaring slightly at Waverly. “Um, sorry to break it to ya sis, but your ‘crush-dar’ or whatever you wanna call it is broke as fuck.”

 

 _Well so is your gaydar_ , Waverly finds herself thinking, then blushes.

 

“I don’t think so Wynonna,” Waverly singsongs, trying to get her mind off of anything that even remotely has to do with Nicole. “You _so_ like him!”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Ha! No denial!” Waverly says triumphantly.

 

“What? What do you mean! I just gave you denial! A whole metric shit ton of denial!” Wynonna counters, spreading her hands.

 

“Well, denial is the first stage of acceptance!”

 

“Baby girl,” Wynonna laughs. “I’m pretty sure denial is the first stage of grief - not acceptance.”

 

Waverly scoffs. “Same difference.”

 

“You know that makes no sense, right? Same difference? It’s odd, but a great line nevertheless.” A new voice quips.

 

Waverly nearly falls out of her chair.

 

“What’s good Haughtpotato!” Wynonna says enthusiastically, tipping backwards in her chair to offer Nicole a high-five.

 

Waverly watches as Nicole rolls her eyes good-naturedly, and gives Wynonna the requested high-five.

 

“You know, you fell over on your ass by doing that like an hour ago,” Nicole says as she takes a seat in the one empty chair at the table, which of course with Waverly’s luck, is directly to her left.

 

Waverly tries, and fails, to ignore the electricity that jolts through her body as Nicole’s leg accidently brushes against her own as she sits down.

 

“Ah shut up,” Wynonna grumbles, but Waverly notices that she slowly puts all four chair legs back onto the ground. “And why are you so sassy all of the sudden?”

 

“I’m always sassy,” Nicole says without missing a beat. “Get any studying done?”

 

If Wynonna thinks the fact that Nicole’s behavior – or the way that she and Waverly haven’t verbally acknowledged each other – is odd, it doesn’t show other than a quick, almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes as she glances at Waverly before answering Nicole.

 

“Studying?” she replies lazily. Wynonna swings her feet up to rest on the table, and ignores Nicole’s slight squeak of protest as her boots come to rest on one of the various stacks of papers. “Never heard of her.”

 

“Ha ha,” Nicole deadpans, reaching across the table to shove Wynonna’s feet off – a movement which, Waverly notices distantly, exposes a strip of tanned skin just above Nicole’s sweatpants as her flannel and t-shirt ride up just slightly.

 

“But seriously, Wynonna,” Nicole says as she leans back – thankfully (and disappointingly, honestly) covering her exposed skin. “Have you gone over anything yet?”

 

Waverly watches as her sister’s face shifts from her carefully molded façade of “I don’t give a shit” to her more honest “I actually give a lot of shits but don’t know how to express them” expression.

 

“Some,” Wynonna admits with a sigh, restlessly shifting her hands on the table as she looks at Nicole. “But not everything.”

 

Nicole gives her a crooked half-smile (which Waverly is _not_ staring at) and nods. “That’s okay. We have time.”

 

Just then, finally, does Nicole look at Waverly, and Waverly wishes she hadn’t, because with just one look her body feels too hot again. It’s not even like Nicole is looking at her with “bedroom eyes” or whatever the hell Wynonna would call it, but she’s looking at her with that usual warm, soft, and understanding gaze that makes Waverly’s knees feel a little weak. Thankfully she’s sitting, otherwise it’d likely be pretty embarrassing to fall over. Nicole gives her a small smile, and then turns back to Wynonna.

 

“I was planning on printing an abbreviated study guide with just the main points to hit, do you want a copy?”

 

“Sure,” Wynonna shrugs, “why not.”

 

With that, Nicole pulls out her computer and clicks a few things, typing briefly (her password for printing, Waverly assumes), and then closes the laptop.

 

“Ok, I’ll be back,” Nicole says, standing up. Wynonna shoots her a thumbs up, and Waverly just nods.

 

Neither Earp speaks until Nicole has disappeared well into the shelves.

 

“Ok,” Wynonna says, turning on Waverly. “Spill.”

 

“Spill what?” Waverly replies, trying to feign ignorance.

 

“Spill what,” Wynonna laughs. She leans forward, and looks at Waverly with a softer expression. “Baby girl, I know you, and whether you like it or not, I can tell something is up. What’s going on with you and Nicole? Neither of you said a word, but you kept glancing at each other.”

 

 _Nicole_. Wynonna rarely calls Nicole by her first name, in fact, Wynonna rarely calls anyone who isn’t Waverly by their first name.

 

Some force of habit – likely Wynonna’s own way of keeping people at a bit of a distance in order to keep herself safe, so she doesn’t get hurt.

 

Waverly tried that method, once, and promptly decided she hated it. She can’t keep people out, it’s not in her nature. Unless, of course, they’re bad people, but she doesn’t busy herself with assholes that often if she can help herself.

 

Bringing herself back to the present, Waverly debates the best way to respond to Wynonna’s question. She hasn’t explicitly told her sister that she’s bisexual, and she’d only ‘dated’ (if you could even call it that, because Waverly hadn’t even liked the boy that much, really) one person in high school, and he was a complete dick. She isn’t itching to explain herself, but this is _Wynonna_. Wynonna who loves her unconditionally, Wynonna who would fight anybody with her ‘pocket knife’ and her words if it came down to it. Wynonna who is always there for her.

 

She trusts Wynonna…but it’s harder to trust herself.

 

This shift in her sexuality hadn’t been all that shocking, she’d started to realize it in her senior year of high school, but it was harder to accept it as her new _normal_. Waverly has spent months since she first noticed she had a real crush on a girl just trying to pass it off as a “life goals” kind of situation when in reality it was much more “wife goals.” She knows her friends would and will accept her, but it’s so incredibly difficult to _accept herself_.

 

Maybe telling Wynonna, maybe verbally stating that she _likes_ Nicole, yes, like that, will be helpful.

 

So, Waverly Earp takes a deep breath and looks her sister in the eye.

 

“I uh…” _Damn_. This is harder than she thought it’d be. It’s just a sentence…but it’s not _just_ anything.

 

“Yeah?” Wynonna prompts softly, taking Waverly’s hand and immediately abating some of Waverly’s nerves. People always think that Wynonna is always cold, and blunt, and snarky, but she’s not. Wynonna, in reality…she’s one of the most honest, loving, and supportive people Waverly knows. She’s definitely the best sister in the whole universe, and Waverly’s favorite person in the world.

 

Maybe Waverly’s not, well…not _interested_ in girls…but she knows that’s not it. She doesn’t know _what_ she is, but she knows now that she’s not _just_ straight like she’d always assumed. Whether she’s interested in both men and women, she doesn’t know, but what she does know is that she has a very _real_ crush on Nicole Haught.

 

Waverly exhales.

 

“I like Nicole.”

 

Waverly searches Wynonna’s face nervously, looking for any sign that would give away Wynonna’s reaction to her words. She feels her heart swell as Wynonna, after a brief look of confusion, just gives her a soft smile and squeezes her hand.

 

“That’s awesome, baby girl,” Wynonna says gently.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Wynonna nods confidently. “Yeah.”

 

“Cool.”

 

Wynonna gives Waverly a big grin, a toothy one that brings out her dimples, subconsciously shaking her head to emphasize her honesty. “So fucking cool.”

 

Waverly blushes and bites her lip, smiling widely and looking down before Wynonna brings her attention back with another squeeze of her hand.

 

“I guess if we’re telling each other about our crushes…” Wynonna begins teasingly.

 

“Oh my god, it is Dolls, isn’t it!” Waverly exclaims excitedly. Wynonna rolls her eyes, but the look on her face tells Waverly everything she needs to know. Waverly almost squeals.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” Wynonna says, smiling at Waverly’s excitement. “But Waves, you still gotta spill – I mean, if you want. What’s going on?”

 

Her smile morphs into a frustrated frown. “Well, I’m not really sure.”

 

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, and just waits for Waverly to continue.

 

“I mean, I think I really like her, I just don’t know what to do about it…if anything. I mean, she’s my _roommate_ , if something goes wrong, what do I do? It’s not like I can just stay in my room and avoid her! What if she doesn’t like me back, or even like girls at all!

 

I don’t want to mess anything up, and I don’t want to lose her as a friend, either. That’d be the _worst_. And besides, I’m still so unsure of myself, I mean, what if I don’t actually like her like that? Like, what if this is all just because I’m in college and this is a new, fresh start, and I don’t actually like girls like that? It’d be so horrible if I hurt someone else because I wasn’t sure of how I felt. I don’t think I could forgive myself. But Nicole is amazing. She sweet, and kind, and understanding, and smart, and funny and witty, and she’s _beautiful_ , Wynonna, I just…”

 

Waverly pauses in her rambling to take a shuddering breath in an attempt to try to fight down the panic that she feels slowly rising in her chest.

 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Waverly manages. Her voice breaks on the final word.

 

The next thing she knows, Wynonna is pulling her close, one hand cradling Waverly’s head to her chest, and the other wrapped tightly around Waverly’s back. Wynonna rests her chin on Waverly’s head and cards the hand previously on Waverly’s back up through her hair soothingly.

 

“Oh, baby girl…”

 

“I’m sorry, I know this is dumb and ridiculous I just –”

 

“It’s _not_ ,” Wynonna says sharply. “I mean, I can’t say I understand exactly, but I think I can get pretty damn close. It’s hard to question who you are. But Waverly, baby girl…god…you’re still _you_. In fact, you’re probably more _you_ than you’ve been before, if that makes any sense. And I know that’s scary. I mean, fuck…figuring out who you are is batshit terrifying for most of the process, but it’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

 

“You promise?” Waverly asks quietly after a moment.

 

“Yeah, Waves,” Wynonna says, leaning back to look Waverly in the eyes. “I promise.”

 

“Thank you, Wynonna,” Waverly says quietly as she buries her face back into her sister’s chest. She feels Wynonna place a soft kiss on her hair and hears a whispered “always” as Wynonna gently strokes her hair.

 

They sit like that for a minute longer before Waverly gingerly extracts herself from Wynonna’s arms.

 

“I should keep working,” she says, wiping her eyes and sniffling quietly. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, Waves,” Wynonna says. “Doc may have finished first, but you’ll still get a better grade, I know it, so does Dolls. And I’m sure Nicole agrees too.”

 

“What do I agree with?”

 

“Haughtsau–”

 

Nicole cuts Wynonna off mid-sentence. “Earp I swear if you finish that with a pun I will not speak to you for a week.”

 

Wynonna has the grace to look slightly miffed before she just smirks. “Alright, alright, just cool down there, Nicole. You’re being a bit of a hot-head.”

 

The glare Nicole sends at Wynonna would be enough to make anyone else wither, but Wynonna stands her ground.

 

“Wynonna…” Nicole starts, voice deceptively calm.

 

“It wasn’t a pun, Nic, I swear,” Wynonna says. “It was a joke, followed by a classic teasing expression commonly exchanged between friends. We _are_ friends, aren’t we?”

 

Nicole just continues to glare, but Wynonna isn’t all that concerned.

 

“I called you a hot-head – spelled ‘h-o-t’ obviously – because you’re just a wee bit sassy tonight,” Wynonna says, putting her fingers close together to show just how small the _wee_ _bit sassy_ is.

 

“You are _insufferable_ ,” Nicole mutters, setting the small stack of papers down and sliding back into her seat next to Waverly.

 

“That’s what Waverly was telling me just a few minutes ago,” Wynonna replies, grinning and grabbing one of the printed pages. “Didn’t know you had it in you to insult me.”

 

Nicole opens her mouth as if to respond, but Waverly interrupts. “Wynonna,” she sighs. “Leave Nicole alone. _Please_.”

 

“Sure thing, Waves, but only because you asked nicely, and because Nicky here brought me an abridged study guide so I guess I owe her or something. Oh, and a fuckton of blessings unto you for that, by the way.”

 

Nicole smiles slightly, “anytime. But don’t ever call me Nicky again.”

 

Wynonna raises her hands in mock surrender with a mirrored smile. Waverly feels a bit of the tight knot in her chest unravel at the exchange.

 

“What about ‘Top Shelf’?” Wynonna asks sweetly. Nicole rolls her eyes.

 

“Wynonna, I said that _once_ ,” Nicole practically whines. “I was _drunk_.”

 

“I know,” Wynonna says. “That just makes it so much better. I mean, now I know for sure that my ass is top-shelf. I mean, you’re one of those honest drunks – both you and Waverly.”

 

“Oh fuck off,” Nicole mutters, and Wynonna just grins and looks at the study guide Nicole made.

 

It’s then that Nicole _finally_ looks at Waverly, and for all Waverly’s attempts to make it look as though she hadn’t just been crying – she knows by the way Nicole’s gaze softens and her forehead creases just slightly that Waverly’s eyes (likely red-rimmed and puffy) have given her away.

 

“Waves,” Nicole says gently. “You okay?”

 

Waverly bites her lip and nods, not trusting herself to respond. Instead, she scrolls down a few pages on her computer, aimlessly looking through all of the citations she still has to fix.

 

“Just a lot going on,” Wynonna supplies in Waverly’s silence. “Bit overwhelmed.”

 

Nicole frowns slightly, but she simply says, “totally,” and lets the matter drop.

 

Waverly could cry again, but this time out of relief – the last thing she wants to do right now is dig into what she and Wynonna had started discussing, let alone with Nicole. Nicole would understand, Waverly _knows_ she would, but the fact that Nicole is the person involved in what’s stressing Waverly out so much likely wouldn’t end too well.

 

The trio work, surprisingly, in silence for almost half an hour before Wynonna’s phone buzzes.

 

Waverly watches as her sister checks her phone, and then unlocks it with an exasperated smile on her face.

 

“Dolls?” Waverly asks innocently.

 

“Yup,” Wynonna says, popping the _p_. “Wait, hang on, how’d you know?”

 

“You smiled,” Waverly replies. “But also I can read, so, there’s that too.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Waves,” Wynonna says as she stands up from her seat. “Otherwise I’d have to give you shit all the time too.”

 

“It’s loving shit,” Waverly says, watching Wynonna shove a few sheets of paper in her bag. Nicole, barely even looking up from her own studying, slides a few more pieces – likely helpful and/or important studying materials – towards Wynonna, who wordlessly and unceremoniously crumples those in her bag as well.

 

“No offense, but I don’t know if I ever want to hear you say ‘it’s loving shit’ again,” Wynonna quips. “That just sounds plain wrong.”

 

Waverly gives her a sarcastic glare, and Nicole pipes up.

 

“Have you ever heard her say, ‘eat shit, shit-eaters’?”

 

Wynonna’s eyes go comically wide and her mouth opens. “You’re _shitting_ me,” she replies.

 

Nicole just shakes her head, “we played a few rounds of Mario Kart with Jeremy, Chrissy and Rosita the other day, and she yelled that as she lapped all three of them.”

 

Wynonna turns to Waverly with excitement clearly written on her face.

 

“Baby girl,” she says, teasingly taking Waverly’s face into her hands. “You gotta say it for me.”

 

Waverly rolls her eyes but acquiesces.

 

“Eat shit, shit-eater.”

 

“Ooohh, I _love_ _it_ when you say that,” Wynonna exclaims, playfully pinching Waverly’s cheeks.

 

“Oh hush,” Waverly laughs, and she sees Wynonna’s expression ease just slightly…and oh…Wynonna is still worried about her. After a moment, Waverly says, “go help Dolls with his question.”

 

“Trying to get rid of me?” Wynonna says with fake shock. “Waverly, I expected more hospitality out of you!”

 

“Wynonna,” Waverly says softly, taking her sister’s hand from where it still rests on her cheek and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Go. I’m fine, I promise.”

 

Wynonna searches her face carefully for a second, before glancing at Nicole and then back to Waverly. “You sure baby girl?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Wynonna looks at her for a beat, before she nods. Satisfied with Waverly’s answer, she places a soft kiss onto Waverly’s forehead. “Alright then, I’ll go bug Dolls, and maybe even study a bit. I don’t know how, but I think your responsibility has rubbed off on me for tonight.”

 

Wynonna slings her bag on her should and walks a few steps away before stopping and turning back to Nicole. “What about you, Haught? Do you wanna come study with me and Dolls? I’m sure we could use your brains.”

 

Waverly sees Nicole glance at her before turning back towards Wynonna. Wynonna, who has just subtly but clearly given Nicole a chance to study with her and Dolls, yes, but who has also given Waverly space – or space for Nicole if that’s what she needs. Wynonna, who has also given Waverly the chance to tell Nicole that it’d be good for her to study with Wynonna and Dolls.

 

But Waverly isn’t going to. Nicole should make her own choice, and besides, Waverly would rather Nicole sticks around.

 

Nicole looks at Waverly again and gives her a small, warm smile. “I think I’m alright here,” she says to Wynonna. “But thanks Earp.”

 

“Sure thing,” Wynonna says, waving off-handedly. “Your loss though, Haught. Dolls and I are about to kick _major_ ass on this stupid test.”

 

Nicole grins and shakes her head. “I’m sure you are, Wynonna.”

 

“Lemme know if you guys need anything, or some shit – have fun being responsible and good,” Wynonna says as she disappears into the bookshelves.

 

“Bye Wynonna,” Waverly calls after her.

 

Neither Nicole or Waverly speak for a minute as they listen as Wynonna clomps down the stairs. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but the air feels charged in a way it hadn’t been earlier, before the bathroom.

 

Waverly squirms.

 

Nicole clears her throat quietly before asking, “you uh, you sure everything’s alright?”

 

Waverly takes a deep breath. She knows Nicole, and she knows that Nicole can tell exactly what she’s feeling. If Waverly doesn’t at least _partially_ say what’s going on, Nicole is going to stay worried. And Nicole won’t push Waverly to tell her, no more than anyone else, because she’s respectful, and kind, and thoughtful, and really _understands_ Waverly in a way that very few people do. Waverly knows that Nicole would rather stay worried than make her uncomfortable in any way.

 

So she wants to say something, but before she can, Nicole continues.

 

“I’m so sorry for almost…I don’t even know what it was…I guess almost smushing you?” She says, running a hand through her hair. She has her glasses back on, but Waverly is more focused on the concerned crease in Nicole’s forehead. “Back in the bathroom. I feel really bad. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, I just, well, I should’ve realized that my shoe was untied. I have such bad foot-eye coordination, too, so of course I stumbled – not that I’m trying to make excuses, it’s just classic clumsy me. But I’m really, really, sorry if that was –”

 

Waverly huffs and gently places her hand on Nicole’s arm. Nicole immediately stops rambling and looks at her.

 

“Nicole,” Waverly says. “You did nothing wrong. You just _almost_ smushed me, _almost_ being the key word there. And besides, if anyone needs to apologize, it should be me…”

 

She looks away from Nicole’s face before she continues. “I’m the one who made the situation so…”

 

 _So what?_ Waverly thinks. _Strained? Electric? Intense?_

 

“…so awkward,” she manages. “It was clumsy me who got stuck in your sweatshirt!”

 

Nicole laughs.

 

“I’m honestly pretty impressed that you managed that,” she says.

 

“What can I say,” Waverly smiles. “I excel at making things more complicated than they need to be.”

 

“I guess you do,” Nicole replies. “But seriously, Waverly, if you were uncomfortable, I’m super sorry.”

 

Waverly realizes it’s no use in arguing with Nicole on this, she’s done that before, and neither of them get anywhere.

 

“It’s alright, Nicole,” she says. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. And I’m sorry if I made _you_ uncomfortable.”

 

“You didn’t,” Nicole says quickly. Her face flushes slightly, but Waverly ignores it.

 

“We’re okay?” Waverly asks quietly, moving to gently squeeze Nicole’s hand.

 

Nicole grins and firmly squeezes back. “We’re okay.”

 

* * *

 

After about an hour of painstakingly correcting her citations, Waverly glances at the time and sighs loudly. _3am_.

 

 _Ugh_.

 

She pauses her music and takes out her headphones, and then looks over to Nicole who has been surprisingly quiet…

 

…and who is currently asleep – snoring quietly, and drooling just a little bit.

 

Waverly can’t stop the affectionate smile she feels creep onto her face. Her chest fills with the same warm feeling it always does when she sees Nicole, and she lets herself think, just for a second, about her earlier conversation with Wynonna.

 

This feeling, whatever this warm, comfortable feeling is, is real. And Waverly is not going to push it away or ignore it. It’s scary, no doubt, but she has always been pretty good at facing her fears, of taking the leap when she can’t quite make out the other side.

 

Waverly lets out a deep breath, and then lets herself gently brush a stray hair out of Nicole’s face – just like she’d done hours before.

 

Nicole hums in her sleep, and leans into Waverly’s light touch. As Waverly goes to move a second strand of hair, the first one falls out from behind Nicole’s ear to brush against Nicole’s nose.

 

Nicole immediately sneezes.

 

Waverly doesn’t even bother trying to hide her laughter at Nicole’s expression – wide brown eyes blinking against the sudden light, sleepy shock, and a deep frown as if she’d just personally offended herself by sneezing and waking up.

 

“Wha time izzit?” Nicole slurs sleepily.

 

“3am,” Waverly says. The feeling in her chest keeps increasing, and suddenly Nicole’s sweatshirt feels like it’s doing its job keeping her warm a little too well.

 

“Three in the morning?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Well shit.”

 

“My sentiments exactly.”

 

Waverly watches as Nicole rubs her eyes and struggles to life her head up off of the table. One of her papers goes with her as she straightens up, having attached itself to Nicole’s cheek via drool. Nicole pouts before removing the paper and squinting at Waverly.

 

“Are you done yet?”

 

Waverly sighs, “not quite, but I’m getting close. How are you feeling about your studying?”

 

Nicole shrugs. “Good, I guess. I’m thinking sleep is going to be the better option, and I’m obviously pretty ready for it.”

 

“Obviously,” Waverly says.

 

“What if we stay until you finish and then head back to the room?” Nicole offers.

 

“Sounds good, but how are we going to keep you awake?” Waverly replies.

 

Nicole blushes a little. “Well, maybe you could hold my hand and just, I dunno, make sure I stay awake?”

 

Waverly’s chest feels full, but in a comfortable way. She smiles and takes Nicole’s hand.

 

“So when you start snoring, I’ll have you slap yourself?”

 

Nicole scoffs, but smiles. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Please don’t.”

 

“I would never,” Waverly says, rubbing her thumb over the back of Nicole’s hand. She watches, intrigued, as Nicole’s eyes follow the movement of her thumb. “Do you think this would work?”

 

Nicole looks up quickly. “Hmm?”

 

Waverly smiles shyly. “If I just, I dunno…did this,” she swipes her thumb across Nicole’s knuckles again. “Do you think it’d keep you awake?”

 

Nicole looks at her for a moment, searching her face like she did earlier in the night, before nodding.

 

“Yeah,” she says with a smile, quickly skimming her own thumb over the back of Waverly’s hand. “I think it’ll work just fine.”


End file.
